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' - S -'^ ■ 

NAMES, ^ 

NOTICES, AND EXTRACTS 


OF 

SOUTHERN PRODUCTIONS 

WHICH 


NORTHERN PUBLISHERS WILL NOT PUBLISH, 


AND 


NORTHERN MAGAZINES CREDIT UNFAIRLY, EVEN 
WHEN USED GRATUITOUSLY, 


WHAT THE CRITICS THINK OF THEM, 


THOUGH 


PUBLISHED AND SOLD IN PERSON, BY THE LADY 
AUTHOR, WHO WOULD AS SOON CIRCULATE 
COUNTERFEIT COIN AS A MERE PUFF, 
BOUGHT AND SOLD, LIKE ANY 
OTHER COMMODITY. 


LOUISE '^:lemjay and hek works. 


This name, so “ widely and favorably known in tbe South 
and West,” is new here, except to editors and the more dis- 
tinguished literati, who received copies of her “ Letters and 
Miscellanies,” after the prospect of a revised and enlarged 
edition was indefinitely postponed. Though no literary rocket, 
which must be all or nothing in a day, it has much merit, 
chiefly literary — though peering out here and there, like lattice 
from foliage, or apropos to some local or personal reminis- 
cence, is a story too (for those that can find it), and many an 
amusing and deeply pathetic incident — but, altogether ioo 
much merit we should say, to remain permanently out of print. 

The Louisville Journal^ one of the best literary authori- 
ties in the country, indorses its writer as a “ lady of strong 
exuberant thought,” and the chary critic of the Boston Post 
adds, “ of education, genius^ heen observation^ ease and raci- 
ness of style^ and a versatility of talent which is remarkable?'* 
In our opinion she is something more. We have all heard of 
Woman’s rights, but such another example of woman’s ener- 
gies and moral heroism, the world, we can safely say, has sel- 
dom seen. Think, poor, pitiful sniveller over hard times, of a 
feeble, houseless invalid, made penniless and insolvent, and 
changed in the same evil hour, from “ an elegant, beautiful 
woman,” to a painful spectacle of human infirmity — then of 
the almost superhuman effort and sacrifices which made the 
mere fact of publication, “ an achievement worthy to he re- 
corded in letters of gold on her after life?* See her again 
when the exhibit of accounts and suppression of receipts (“ a 
most infamous expedient ”), had defeated its second or third 
re-issue within the year, and with it, that of a still more pro- 
fitable work then in press.* Shouts of victory ringing on one 
ear, taunts of failure hissed into the other ; the little health, 
credit, and reputation so hardly earned, again stricken down, 
by the very hands, too, which had enforced the literary suicide 
of sales by the author, in the guise of mercy : does she now 

^ text-hook, and the object, it is believed, of all this singular (if not 
Binister) practice, though ‘ sour grapes ’ now, of course.” 



NOTICES OF THE WOKK. 


succumb ? No ! Disaster may crush, never conquer the 
brave.” “ The day is not lost, while the ery is ‘advance ! ’ ” 
exclaims this indomitable woman — “ if I may not walk up to 
success as to a friend^ I will set my foot on its neck as a con- 
quered subject ! ” And our word for it, she will. To a spirit 
nerved like hers, “ there is no such word as fail.” Success 
with her is but a thing of time. Her very energy of itself is 
genius, and we pity that poor, blind dupe of custom and clique, 
who cannot see it in such a death grapple with circumstances 
as hers. 

Her “ Gensor-ia Lictor-ia^'* is a hasty, half-grown series of 

piquant scraps, thrown into semi-dramatic form 

a grotesque mosaic of wit, sentiment, satire, and epigram, per- 
fectly unique in style, and equal, in our opinion, to any thing 
of the kind in the language. ... A little too crah '''‘-like^ 
perhaps, not to puzzle some readers with its many-sided mean- 
ings, unless read consecutively, like other travels and histories 
in narrative form ; but they are there, “ a perfect embarrass of 
riches,” and well worth the finding. . . . Louise Elemjay 

is right — she is “ bound to ‘ come in.’ ” Will some of our 
eminent publishers stick a pin there, and take the hint, or wait 
and see that game, so jauntily alluded to in the preface, played 
out ? 

We quote the above from the Boston Courier; and this lady, whose 
name is not “ unknown to fame,” and whose untiring energy and moral 
heroism under the most adverse circumstances command alike our sym- 
pathy and admiration, is now here ; establishing beyond cavil that “truth 
is stranger than fiction.” Mrs. Elemjay is a lady in the most acceptable 
sense of the term, whose merits as a writer are indorsed by the leading 
literary characters of our country. We ask our citizens to turn out en 

masse^ and listen to a true woman’s history With twice the 

ordinary obstacles to surmount, the rising fame of this talented lady is 
outstripping the laggard pace of most writers. Her writings evince in 
domitable energy, satirical wit, brilliant intellect, and unbounded self- 
reliance. She has too much independence to buy for herself an unmer- 
ited celebrity, but is destined to enjoy an enviable reputation, and stand 

high in the temple of genius, by her own exertions and merit 

Go to see her ; go every body, and mothers take your children. It is 
worth to them the price of a dozen such books, the recollection of that 
Mooman^ when ready to faint in the great battle of life. Catch us saying’ 
hard times again. — Palmyra Sentmely Louisiana Heraldy and other West- 
em Papers. 


LETTERS AND MISCELLANIES. 

(second 2d edition out of print.) 

Instructive and amusing Exceedingly sprightly, and 

full of good sense Lady of strong exuberant thought. 

. . . Scarce fail to be read with pleasure and profit. Shall review 

this work at large Predict for it a ready and extensive sale. 

— Louisville Journal. 

An ornament to our literature. . . . Full of amusing incident 

and sprightly remarks. . . . Poetic genius of a high order of merit. 

When it appears, give it a more extended review. — Kentucky Statesman. 

Subject of Temperance Keform, among other things, treated in an 
original and most masterly mannei-. — Org. Temp. Ref. 

^ Full of genius and good taste, and will, I am sure, sell well. — Rev. 
Robert Morris^ .author of ** Lights and Shadows of Free Masonry.^' 

* This is a genuine book — a lady-like book, with a lady-like spirit. 
You will find something in it that you don’t see every day — sundry clear, 
ringing words, that take the atmosphere by a sort of surprise, and not a 
few hard hits. It is free, bold, independent in intellectual quality, and, 
withal, truthful to the sex in those affections that accompany the out- 
going of their thoughts, and throw a higher grace than beauty around 
their images. 

It has another and tenderer interest — the interest of sorrow. Calam- 
ities, such as seldom overtake our frail nature and crush out its hope and 
strength, have fallen on its gifted author. With all manly hearts, this 
would insure its prompt patronage ; but when real merit of an umisual 
degree is allied with an appeal to our sympathies, no one should fail to 
lend a helping hand for its success. — Montgomery {Ala^ Journal. 

Possesess much merit, racy and humorous sketches by an original 
and keen observer. — Flag of the Union (Jackson) Miss. 

One of the best of its class, rare and valuable. . . . Ask for it a 

perusal by all lovers of good reading, . . . Quite suggestive. . . 

. . Very spirited. . . . Neatly printed and uniquely written, one 

of the books that will repay perusal. — Vicksburg Whig, Yazoo City, 
Natchez, Baton Rouge, and Mobile papei s. 


^ Stars indicate voluntefe critiques, Editorial MS. and verbal. 


NOTICES OF THE WORK. 


We commend this very interesting work. Eluent, racy, quaint, and 
poetical, it cannot fail to entertain and instruct. 

The Book is well worth the price, and the purchaser will bestow a 
benefit at once upon himself and another who needs, and deserves, and 
will duly appreciate it. — Nashville Whig. 

A book of real merit, written in an exceedingly sprightly style, and 
calculated to do good in, besides pleasing, every circle of Southern 
readers. 

And we do think it would be rather outre on the part of any Kentuck-^ 
ia^n or Southerner to withhold the reward due to Southern literature. — 
Ky. Yeoman. 

Something out of the common, with a style just as peculiarly the au- 
thor’s own as anything to be found in the works of Lawrence Sterne. — 
Telegraph, {Ilurfreeshoro, Tenn.) 

Wants nothing but abuse to make it exceedingly popular. . . . 

It is a capital work. . . . Interesting as a biography, fascinating as 

a novel; but not to be fully appreciated either by those who never read 
one, or never read anything else. . . . The man who sees nothing 

special in this, would, if left to his own unguided taste, pronounce Addi- 
son a dunce, Washington Irving a bore, and Ik Marvel nowhere — let his 
mother look well to his outgoings. ... A book for the Library — 
we shall put ours on the shelf with Irving — to be read and read again 
by all who enjoy a “silent laugh,” or thrilling pathos. . . . Can- 

not fail to command the sympathy and admiration of all men of letters 
for its talented and suffering authoress. — Flag, and other South-western 
Author ities — Publishers making private sale of Eastern consignments. 

A very clever production, and we feel a decided interest in the suc- 
cess of the writer. It is made up of letters and sketches, running 
through a period of some twenty years. The style is easy, graceful and 
sprightly, throughout. A passage or two of some of the earlier effusions 
may perhaps be considered slightly irreverent, but p)robably was not so 
intended. The whole work proves itself the emanation of cultivated in- 
tellect, sparkling fancy, keen and close observation upon men and things. 
Sarcasms, sharp and pungent, abound in its pages, and many of the 
foibles and meannesses of life are lashed with an unsparing hand, while 
here and there dashes of humor alternate with passages of gentle affec- 
tion or touching sorrow. A sub-tone of sadness and suffering pervades 
the whole, and, without extraneous aid, it would not be difficult to in- 
fer that she has suffered more than enough to crush a less determined 
spirit. — Frankfort Commonwealth. 

* I expected to find it similar in character to many of the works that 
are now-a-days brought to public notice, in various ways — a sort of 
badly printed, badly arranged rehash of ideas, either obsolete or famil- 
iar to every schoolboy. But, sir, I did not know the gem I was buying . 
I can truly say, that no half-day’s reading ever gave me more pdeasure 
than that spent over the above-named book. The style is fresh, free, and 


NOTICES OF THE WORK. 


frank— playful, witty, sarcastic, and grave — ^law, politics, and religion, 
morality and ethics, disquisition and description, are all dished up in 
proper turn, in the most delightful style that a sprightly, intelligent, 
“ keen visioned” woman could write. I write the above without her 
cognizance, but those who patronize the lady, will find the book worth 
treble the price ; in fact, one forgets, under the fascinating influence of 
its pages, ail notions of common gelV' and cent-per-cent. — Correspond- 
ent Kentuckian. 

‘‘ I always take great pleasure in expressing that high opinion of your 
literary power and promise which the perusal of your recent publication 
has enabled me so earnestly to form.” — Fitz Oreene Halleck. 

. . . . A selection from the correspondence and jottings of some 

twenty years, written without any publication aforethought, (and all the 
better for that in our estimation,) in just such a style of easy, off-hand 
elegance, as an accomplished, high-toned lady would be apt to fall, when 
conversing untrammelled with her nearest and dearest. . . . It is 
not a novel, it is not a biography, but there is something strangely fas- 
cinating about its sparkling thought, and slipshod stvie — not the slip- 
shod of a vulgar slattern, but the jaunty, careless grace of a highbred 
and highly intellectual Lady. . . . It must be a dull brain, and cold 
heart that is neither moved to mirth by its wit, nor tears by its pathos 

. . . The more recent series, Censoria Lictoria, though rather too 

light and sketchy for the book form, brings out the brilliant magazin- 
ist— for that is decidedly L. Elemjay’s forte— still more conspicuous- 
ly. — Weston {Mo.') Argus and Forest Rose. 

• ♦ . authoress is an extraordinary woman. She is possessed 

of a brilliant imagination, a well-balanced mind, and descriptive powers 
of a high character. She holds a masculine pen, and writes with great 
freedom and power. There is a force and beauty of expression combined 
with a sufficient sprinkling of keen satire, sparkling wit, and caustic 
humor, which renders the work quite spicy. Her meanings do not al- 
ways lie on the surface ; the undercurrent must be looked after, and it is 
well worth looking after. — Volunteer critique hy a Clergxjman of Ten- 
nessee, 


Tir- 'll ' • written some excellent, spicy, and piquant Letters and 
Miscellanies a charming book. W e care not that the taste be peculiar 
and always prefer the improvised letter or miscellany, dotted down at 
the moment fresh and glowing with the heavenly dews of true emotion, 
to the adroitly woven woof of romantic tale, — spun from imagination 
and rarely chastened by experience and observation. The essence of 
all genius is feeling mobility of soul can alone inspire the true author 
. . . Commend the claims of Miss E. and her fugitive sketches to 

the lovers of sound literature and elegant taste.— .BrMwmcifc (Mo\ 
(j-azette. ^ 


CENSORIA LICTORIA. 


Sprightly, spicy, indeed we may say allspice. . . . Handles shams 
pretty roughly ; shows much vigor of understanding, but less of the 
genial and Christian than Ave should prefer ; still there are hypocrisies 
and meannesses that deserve to be laughed and scourged out of the world 
— books of this kind have their use. — Christian Witness (P. E.) 

i 

“ My opinion of your writings has, as you know, been always favor- 
able, and freely expressed.” — Fitz- Greene Halleck. 

Like Fanny Fern, quite as original, more highbred. ... A tale 
of no common incident, behind all these withering and fun-loving squibs 
. . . Hits to the right and left,^ and hack again without fear or favor., 

and so perfectly cool. Guess it will stir up some bile in some qicarters , — 
but, Madam, how dare you ? . Rich, sparkling, highly amusing. 

. . . . The oddest little quiz of a book — would it were larger, 

“ Like Fanny Fern ? ” Yes ; but has more body, and the ring of a finer 
metal. . . . One of the little vials. ... A good deal of attic 

salt, as well as “ all-spice ” and aquafortis. The “ licks ” do come to 
our turn pretty often, but we must laugh if we wince, and turn round to. 
see who catches it next. — Mass, and N. Y. Fds. 

When we say it is literally overflowing with wit the most attic, humor 
the most caustic, sarcasm the most biting, sentiment the most refined 
and poetic, and fancies the most brilliant and polished, we but express 
the opinion of all the intelligent who have had the good fortune to peruse 
this book. To praise it were as absurd as “ to paint the lily.” It is a 
gem of the purest ray and finest Avater, and confers infinite credit upon 
its accomplished author. She shoots folly as it flies, and shows up the 
frivolities, the flunkeyisrns, and hypocrisies of the day with an unsparing 
hand. Those Avho like to see the mirror held up to nature should call in 
time ; no copies can be had, after she leaves. — Vicksburg Sun d' Sentinel. 

Louise Elemjay has a mind unimpaired by the most crushing calam- 
ities As a satirist she cuts with a keen edge, and a diction 

so polished that intense thought is sometimes required to unmine the 
brilliancy of the casket. — Boonville Observer and Patriot. 

Needs no comment of ours. — Glasgow {file.') Times. 

Aside from her current reputation as a literary distingue, she brings 
testimonials of high moral and social worth from eminent sources all over 
the country. Our fashion and literati should lose no time in paying 
tlieir respects. — Howard Co. Banner. 

She attacks the follies and vices of the times, with all the fearless 
valor of the Knight Errants of old, yet Avith all a woman’s tenderness.— 
Natchez Courier. 


NOTICES OF THE WOEK. 


“ The lools reached here in the afternoon. Evening came with 
some interruptions from guests, but to lay them down was impos- 
sible, though my yet unspectacled eyes remonstrated, and the mid- 
night clock struck ere they were finished. . . . Breathe the 

very soul of feeling, poured forth through a pen of more than fem- 
inine strength. ... Continue to wish that such a pen, taking 
themes Avorthy its power, would, in some future work, so expose 
folly, and encourage virtue, as to ensure lasting benefit to the sex 
and country.” — Mrs. Sigourney. 

. . . Somebody’s mismanagement (or worse) kept ^'•Letters and 
Miscellanies,^'' chiefly in the South-west, and now we regret to find, 
prevented the second or third re-print, some eight or ten months 
after date ; but genius is of no section, and the author of those un- 
pretending “etchings and sketchings of twenty years’ wanderings,” 
which men of letters— judging from things, not names — place side 
by side with Ieving, should never lack the homage due to acknowl- 
edged talent and sterling worth. Her new work is in some dano-er 
from its size and price, of falling into the wrong hands ; but, as her 
first Lictor says of the second, '‘^nothing too Ugh for her impudence, 
or too loio for her notice:'' There is evidently fun a-head, and we 
are glad to see the South and South-west are not to have it all to 
theinselves this time.^ . . . Precisely one of the looks and wri- 

ters that are every thing to one reader and nothing to another. 

• • '''"Malf-lreedf — lorn North, lives South that means, we con- 

clude— cerUiinly^ is up to shooting “alleound the teee,” and does 
credit to his Ped-sTciii models ; lut suppose we must gehst and 
bear It. . . , . Like Faxny Feex, av as our first impression ; 
but no this IS a diamond of finer cut, and purer water, like Irving 
Ilalleck, and that older and better class of witty poets and satirical 
liumorists, a great deal more we now think. . Mean 

no disparagement to Fanny, but Louise ElemjIt must go up hi<di- 
A ■ * * * political tastes icere half as good 

neighbor. . . . Here is an exquisite sense and quiet humor 

of which Fanny has lut very little. . . . Reminds one of the 
wit and sly drollery of Sydney Smith. . . . Roes gallant 

fighting, too, on her own hook, lut “Published foe the Authoe ” 

SOEBY TO SEE THAT SLUE ON THE EEGULAE PuBLlSHEES ’ 

Looks as if they were suspected of owning some of the “ Light-fin- 

’ ""KEpouTE,” and just as like as not, to 
put all authors Irains in their own pockets.'"'^ . . . You see 


ruling fdets!^ of Nazareth were among their 


NOTICES OF THE WORK. 


Madam^ we have '■'‘felt of the paper’'"' in hoth your hooTcs. . , , 

One of the best things we have read ; acknowledge that it was only 
at the second or third reading that we began to revel in its brilliant 
flights of fan and sarcasm. FERN-ish, we should say, more so than 
Fanny, and of a higher and more intellectual caste. She, cuts and 
slashes like a perfect virago. Mrs. Elemjay holds you by the but- 
ton, smiles benevolently in your face, dresses you down on one side 
and up the other, hits you between the eyes, over the head, and 
on the knuckles; but so pleasantly, with such pure, classic language, 
really it is so pleasant to take a whipping from such a charming 
lictor. It takes mind, and thought, and brains, and a thorough 
knowledge of English, to '-'do up ” the English in the exquisitely 

polite and sarcastic style of these unapproachable limnings 

Her poetic fancies are charming, rich, and full of life, or noble 
soul-thoughts, too big for utterance, and too brilliant for suppres- 
sion. ... Is, 'beyond all doubt^ a writer of the first order. . . . 
lias all the pith and point of Fanny Fern, without her brusqueness 
and angularity. . . . Spicy, brilliant, classic, and at times in- 

tensely sarcastic. As a writer of Political Odes she stands with but 
few rivals. — Cleveland, Toledo, ojnd other Ohio and Illinois Au- 
thorities. 

Full of life and piquancy — light reading to the heart’s content, 
and not the heart’s hurt either. . . . Xoneofyour yelloTV-cov- 

ered poison. . . . But to little brains and long ears, we would 
say, Procul, 0 Procul, for you are in danger. . . . It is by the 
author of '''' Letters and Miscellanies f "known. . . . 

She wields a rigorous pen., and has achieved a fair reputation in the 
republic of letters. . . . If read simultaneously throughout the 

land, we could fancy the universal smarting of the fashionable 
world, as their follies, foolishness and frivolities were laid under 
the rod of the censor. Miss Betsey Trotwood, though a true wo- 
man, generous, charitable, and humane, is merciless to unbending, 
pompous pretentiousness, and pursues it with the same relentless- 
ness that she instigated Janet to follow the donkeys. . . . The 

account of her official tour is written with a short, keen pen, drip- 
ping with remorseless sarcasm. . . . 

A bundle of sarcasm, satire, and pungent wit. . . . Official 

accounts of the journeyings of that unsparing censor of public morals 
and maimers, Miss Betsey Trotwood, who is now abroad, it seems, 
with her Lictoria. . . . It is full of “ sharp sticks,” and trans- 

fixes the follies and conventionalities of the day, on all sides, and 
at every point. . . . The writer’s reputation has been estab- 

lished by a prior work of undeniable merit. — St. Louis Pres. Her- 
aid, ILews, and Intelligencer. 


NOTICES OF THE WORK. 


Her endorsers, as the Lexington Journal well remarks, “comprehend 
pretty much all the leading authorities of the country.” Others, backed 
by the trade, may be more generally^ though scarce more extensively, 
certainly not more favorably known. She has the distinguished honor 
— for it is no small one — to be the very first, so far as we know, 
to have won literary reputation, without Publishers’ aid, and ex- 
tended it from South and West to North and East, in defiance op 
sectional jealousy and the universal prejudice against sales by 
AUTHOR. .... She has stood by the South, honestly and fear- 
lessly, while others of half her talent were winning fortunes, by covering 
it with insult and abuse. The South owes her a debt of gratitude— now 
is the time to repay it . — Kansas City Enterprise (now West. Jour. Com- 
merce) and Leavenworth City Herald. 

Louise Elemjay is not “ unknown to fame.” Her mind is full of 
rich thought, and ripest written and unwritten literature .— Free 
Trader. 


^ The press throughout the land have from time to time spoken of her 
in terms the most complimentary, but we have no time, nor space to 
speak of her and her works, as she and they deserve. We mif^ht’fill 
columns with notices, but what the old Nashville Whig, Boston Post 
Courier, Prentice, Halleck, and Mrs. Sigourney, endorse, all may 
read . — Lexington {Me.) Expositor. 


These ‘ old-new books” have reached us at last, and nothing less 
than genius and energy of the very first order could have made, and 
kept alive, the reputation of that suppressed by such infamous 
means, when its rising repute could no longer be confined to the few 
local points, accessible to a very helpless invalid. Nothing now can 
suppress our opinion, that it, like the Censoria Lictoria (Particular 
Jessy), is a book of rare merit, though too high an order of merit per- 
haps, to be generally appreciated. Its pathos brings tears to manly 
eyes ; and its successor is not merely witty and sarcastic, but wit and sar- 
casm; and if any of our lazy friends throw it down as frivolous or 
unmeaning, because unable to grasp all its subtle meanings at a single 
glance, we advise thein to pick it up again, and read at least, “ What a 
Booh might he good for. St. Joseph's Journal and Gazette. 


. ^ perfect spice island in the vast ocean of literature. 

Light reading, though one little dreams, at first sight, of ail the fun' 
sarcasm, politics, piety, sentiment, and satire couched under the jaunty 
careless grace of the author’s strange Elemjayesses. We really know im 
better name for her own pleasant, peculiar style, but a bo^ok which 
improves upon a second, or third perusal, has at least one unfailinci 

mark of genius know no living author, whose sath-e 

reaches farther, strikes higher, or cats deeper ? but it is with tL edge 
Made, not stone and Argus, Hickman, 

An odd bundie of fun, piety, wit, pathos, and all sorts of "sharf 


NOTICES OF THE WOEK. 


sticks even our “ Shrieker ” friends will jBnd in it an elegant castiga 
tion Not exactly calculated for the ordinary cheap litera- 

ture meridian;- why does not some enterprising publisher look into the 
“ Elemjayess,” both series we mean; there is surely “ a fortune in the 
books,” if only put into the proper form, and proper hands. — Flatte 
City Eagle^ ap'd other Western Papers. 

Need only say Louise Elemjay (L, M. J.) is in town, of course every- 
body will want a copy of her Censoria Lictoria. . . . It is exceed- 

ingly racy, unique, and entertaining — not by any means puerile or frivo- 
lous, with all its off-hand levity. — Memphis Eagle and Appeal. 

Something too much, perhaps, of hewing “ blocks with a razor,” but 
the writer’s versatility of talent, and style is truly remarkable. . . . 

Cun add nothing to her reputation, the book bears its own most ample 
endorsement, and examination gives us fuU faith in the very many highly 
complimentary notices we have often &Qen.— Somerville Reporter and 
Advocate. 

One of the little vials., with thoughts enough in its 150, or 160 pages, 

for two modern books of twice the size Can do little more 

than endorse our neighbors, and other cotemporaries. — Vicksburg Whig 
and True Southerner. 

More sly humor, subtle wit, and double-distilled satire, than is often 

put — -just as this should not be — in the pamphlet form The 

Comefs was among the earliest notices of Letters and Miscellanies. Its 
readers will need no further commendation of this “ oddest little quiz of 
a book,” called Censoria Lictoria. The strange suppression of the 
former is briefly told in a Preliminary from the Boston Courier., and tho 
deeply pathetic, and intensely sarcastic piece, entitled “ The Fugitive 
Returned.'^'' — A dvertiser and Comet., Baton Rouge, 

Its distinguishing characteristics, arc brevity, wit, sarcasm, origi- 
nality, and a high order of Fanny Fernisra Wholly unlike 

the ordinary style and productions of female authors. — Selma {Ala.) 
Papers^ and Montgomery Advertiser. 


RISING YOUNG MEN. — By Louise Elemjat. 

We had the pleasure of announcing in our issue of Wednesday the 
arrival ot this distinguished author, and hope that her sojourn in 
our city will extend through several weeks. We commend her espe- 
cially and with confidence to the attentions and courtesies of oui* 
lady readers. 

Though the subject of severe and continued bodily affliction, and 
forced to maintain herself by the sale of her works, we do not ground 
her claims to our regard and liberality, our sympathy and attention, 
on the mere fact that she has written books and needs the proceeds. 
By so doing we should be guilty of a gross piece of indelicacy and 
injustice. Her works stand upon their own merit ; they will reward 
careful reading, and they challenge just criticism. 

We must not confound these witty, vigorous, spicy, brilliant 
writings of a high-bred woman of thorough culture with those vapid, 
puerile productions, made up of scraps of biography and much doo’- 
gerel, which we purchase merely from motives of charity. The author 
ot “Letters and Miscellanies” does not solicit our alms; she has not 
come here to move our pity. Her books are her sole means of main- 
tenance; her circumstances and the conditions of publication have 
compelled her to adopt the present method of circulating them. 

1 hey have been read throughout the country, and the genius and 
talent they exhibit have been everywhere and freely admitted. It is 
t^o works of eminent ability and established reputation that, on be- 
half of their author, we solicit the attention of the community 

But we forbear any further general remarks, and invite our readers 
to accompany us in our examination of her latest publication— 
Rising Young Men. 

pieces, 

one of which is called Our Experience— An Ower True Tale. This is 
cistinguisbed m an eminent degree by the peculiar traits of the 

w'n 'll' r ‘fr- ’ it serenity and 

smiles , but the lightning that darts from somewhere is of the^ sort 

that stuns and sometimes kills. She utters a series of complaints in 
a firm round tone against that class of considerate gentlemen so 
fir'll 1 professors of the goosequill, the publishers. The 
hi tlfl" of advertisement for which authors 

< o 0 pay. The second charge is the premature payment. The 
adroit evasion of evmy thing not in black and white forms the third 
charge; what constituted “ ex^m-ordinary” efforts to put the book 
m circulation, the fourth ; the fifth charge contains several and 

Inli7sil^^'"l conduct, most admirably put. 

1 TpxI publication of 

° defeated; and in the seventh 

brings to light some unclean doings of a pecuniary kind 

But we must leave this trenchant presentment against the nersons 
c prge in the hands of our readers, after giving them a taste of its 
spirit by quoting the follomng sentences: “Nobody should make a 


NOTICES OF THE WORK. 


common hack of us and ours, if we were a publisher, for five times 
that amount ; but, then, we were not and are not ^ prepared,^ and 
wouldn’t give five dollars, no, nor five cents, for it, if we were. No, 
honestly earned and fairly accorded, that ’s the word for us — the gen- 
uine article, or none at all. ‘ Thank God, I can now dispense with 
humbug !’ said some old celebrity who had made his fortune. Thank 
God, we never had any to dispense with ! is our response. We can 
live without a ‘great literary success,’ couldn’t live under a coun- 
terfeit one ; can do without the ‘ fine purple,’ never did feel mean 
enough to wear shams.” 

But we must turn to the tale we promised briefly to notice. This 
story has already passed through several editions this year, in spite 
of the peculiar and great disadvantages it has labored under. There 
is not a more completely successful satire in the language ; and had 
the ordinary means been made use of in its circulation, it would not 
only have made the reputation, but also tlie fortune of the writer. 
The qualities of puppyism are brought out in bold relief, and the 
follies and vices of society shown up with graphic power. Nothing 
can exceed the perfect fidelity of the authoi’’s delineation of rising 
men : the spirited and characteristic conversations, the pungency of 
the satire, the piquant sallies of humor, the purity and delicacy of 
her wit. The book is eminently vigorous, fresh, and brilliant, 
abounding in passages of power, pathos, and eloquence. 

No one who takes up this book will willingly lay it down till he 
has read it through, and it is only with the hope of inducing some 
one to open it that we now write. The fullest and most minute de- 
scription of the plot would convey but a very imperfect idea of the 
skill with which it is unravelled, or of the peculiar powers of the 
writer, especially as our space renders extracts impossible. 

Each rising man, desirous to obtain the aid of a pair of white 
jewelled hands, that he may ascend the more rapidly and easily, is 
the representative of a class. Society abounds in Sinclairs, Russells, 
Ned Tylers, and Hawthornes. We can only refer to that racy con- 
fidential conversation between this last-named personage and Mrs. 
Lennox. The full-length portrait of Tyler is drawn with a few bold 
strokes: “His hands stuck in his pockets, turned-up nose, and nar- 
row forehead,” his consequential strut and knowing air as he rebukes 
the presumptive hopes of gazing ladies, or looks round after dancing, 
and this demi-millionaire is made to appear in the highest degree 
ludicrous by mistaking an heiress for a poor relation. 

The character and object of Miss Frances’s admirers and ardent 
suitors were fully exposed to her gaze by the clever ruse adopted by 
her mother. Miss Elemjay shows fine management in the use she 
makes of this simple artifice. The dupes, so assiduous in their 
attentions to Frances Lennox, were rude enough to regret her ab- 
sence in the presence of Willielmine He Witt, in mourning and with 
no prospects. 

The runaway scene in the fifth chapter is finely described. One 
enjoys the exciting adventure because no harm was done. The pun- 
ishment inflicted by the wrathful Mr. Weston on the fair offenders 


NOTICES OF THE WORK. 


was singularly appropriate. The remarks of John are in the richest 
vein of Celtic drollery. 

But these hurried glances at a spirited and delightful tale must 
suffice for the present. We warmly advise our readers to purchase 
the Rising Young Mm and Censoria Lictoria. — Charleston Courier. 

. . . . A story of much interest, in an independent, graceful 

style, that would of itself amply repay perusal. . . . Commend 

both works unhesitatingly to our readers. — Chronicle and Sentinel and 
Constitutionalist, Augusta, Ga. 

• • • • , ^^16 midst of obstacles, to others insurmountable, 

Louise Elemjay has given to the world a production ranking high in 
merit, and worthy of a place in every library. Its style, although 
faulty in some respects, is nevertheless clear, vigorous, and at the 
same time womanly. Every line of the book breathes forth woman’s 
inspiring spirit, and gives in unmistakable character the impress of 
the heart. 

The plot of the story is well laid and nicely carried out. At times 
her description of scenery mounts to that beautiful transparent glow 
that characterizes the efforts of Irving. Her characters have their 
counterparts in every-day life, which is far greater praise than can 
be bestowed upon either Mrs. Lee Hentz or Mrs. Southworth. In 
Men,” we find the “mirror held up to nature” by a 
skilful and steady hand, and with an artistic skill that is truly ad- 
mirable. Through the whole work runs a vein of humor, like gold 
through the crystallized stone, blending the useful and the beautiful 
the “grave and the gay, the lively and severe.” — Marion (Ala ) 
American. ' ^ 


. . . . Both works evince a lively fancy, piquant humor, and 

keen observation, expressed in a style playful, witty, and sarcastic.— 
Editor, ^ Abbeville, S.C. 

Louise Elemjay is not an unknown name. Her Letters and Mis- 
cellanies attracted considerable attention in this section, and the 
more recent publications are spoken of in terms of no stinted praise. 

. • • • Seldom, if ever before, has so small an amount of sales 

produced so large an amount of first-class reputation. We can 
scarce add a siii^e leaf to her well-earned chaplet.— Sun, 
and La Grange {Ga.) Reporter. ’ 

This talented lady has for the last two weeks been the guest of our 
very distinguished citizen, Dr. A. A. Lipscomb. ... Her works 
improve_ and benefit mankind— her subjects such 
as would be natural to an intelligent, benevolent woman, 


“ Whose soul’s proud aim and heart’s high truth 
Have kept the promises of youth.” 

P^o^^ctions seldom exhibit such vigor of stvie and versa- 
tility of hought as will be found in “ Rising Young Men.” “Cen- 
soria Lictoria” IS very caustic, and at times seems to want tangibil- 
ity, but, with all its faults, (for what book is not faulty?) contains 

S' Thti*’ deep thought and great powers of exp^s! 

on. These works are calculated to do much good, and should^ find 


NOTICES OF THE WORK. 


a permanent place in every library. Their author is a Southern lady, 
■well educated, and a most admirable woman. Her manner is fasci- 
nating, her conversational powers rich and varied, and though still 
suffering severely from infirmities which wealth might remove, she 
retains a playfulness of thought in conversation, and a heart full of 
the true sensibilities of woman. 

The South contributes largely to the national literature, and gets 
very little credit for it; for until they have felt the application of 
Northern spittle, we of»the South are too apt to think slightingly 
of our own productions. Verily, a prophet hath honor save in his 
own country. Every book should stand on its own intrinsic merits ; 
and when this rule is to determine an author’s success, Louise Elemjay 
has nothing to fear in the walks of literature or usefulness.— I’ws/ce- 
gee (Ala.) Democrat. 

. . Vivacious strokes of a pen dipped in the caustic fluid 

of an independent observation, neither slow to conceive nor impotent 
to express ; not the idle musings of a misanthropic spirit, but the 
free, full-fledged conceptions of a stout heart and true intellectual- 
ity . — Camden Journal. 

.... We have them before us, and kept them before us a 
large part of Saturday afternoon, enchanted with the gems they 
revealed. The wit and satire are both flashing and keen, and the 
pathos deep and touching. Mrs. Elemjay’s name may be less familiar 
to most of our readers than that of some more pretending but less 
worthy lady of letters, but that is no reason why it should not be 
one of our household words. . . . Wilmington Herald. 

. We design no unmeaning panegyric. We mean that 
the luminous gift of virgin thought, the irrepressible sparklings of 
true genius and intellectual worth, gleam forth from the pages before 
us. Not too extravagant was the language of the Charleston Courier 
when upon her recent visit to that city, it characterized her as “this 
distinguished author.” We bespeak for her the courtesies and high 
esteem and regard of our citizens, and of the Southern public wherever 
she may be thrown. It has been our good fortune to make her ac- 
quaintance, and to examine some of an almost endless variety of the 
highest testimonials in her possession. Her productions would be 
ample in her commendation, for “the tree may be known by its 
fruit,” and in this instance the genuineness, the purity, and the 
rareness of the fruit are beyond question. ... , 

Louise Elemjay has for many years suffered intense bodily afflic- 
tion, and much of her truly literary book before us has been written 
while contending with disease. How great the energy and ambition, 
and how unfailing the moral courage, which have borne her thus tar, 
under such circumstances, through her doubtful labors ! But the 
reward of true mental greatness is now hers, and notwithstanding 
the necessity which compels her thus to dispense her books we can- 
not and do not for a moment place her in the category of book retailer. 

Hers is a nobler calling. . . . . 

The “Censoria Lictoria” teems throughout with gems of thou ht, 
interspersed with most agreeable (to some, no doubt, disagreeable) 


NOTICES OF THE WORK. 


Bat’ire and pleasantry. The “Rising Young Men” has the same 
stamp and depth of intellect, with perhaps more of connected power 
and less of pungent satire ; but the moral etfect is equally good and 
wholesome, and the Charleston Courier, in its lengthy and able 
critique of June 9th, commends it throughout as the Courier never 
commends, save in sheer conscientiousness . — Sumpter (N. C.) Watch- 
man. 

. . . . The book is a capital hit at the follies of the times and 
hypocrisies of the age, and abounds in humor and satire, and sparkles 
with wit . — Newbern Daily Progress. 

. . . . Would add my humble endorsement to your already 
well-acquired literary fame. . . . The Southern Literary Com- 

pend is nearly ready Should indeed feel complimented 

highly to have Louise Elemjay contribute to its pages. — E d. Palladium^ 
Lumpkin., Ga. 

. . . Once at least, since the unprincipled suppression of her 

Letters and Miscellanies, has her Letter on Slavery stood between 
it and the much-desired republication. No man can read her Censo- 
rih Lictoria, and fail to see how often fanatics and shriekers, from 
Boston to Kansas, have winced under her caustic pen. She, in her 
loneliness and want, “has stood honestly and fearlessly by the South, 
while others of half the talent were winning fortunes by covering 
it with insult and abuse. The South owes her a debt of gratitude:” 
now is the time to repay it 

Two of our oldest and best authors, and hosts of able critics, freely 
endorse her literary power and promise ; but publishers will not aid, 
because she will not pander to Northern prejudice. The South, but 
with a few honorable exceptions, too often reserves its open purse 
and open doors for those who come, not to understand, but to vilify, 
us and our institutions. . . . This should not be. Louise Elem- 
jay has conferred ho7ior on her sex and section ; she has a right to 
expect it in return. 

. . . Commend the claims of her genius and writings to the 

critical attention of our brethren of the press and our readers in all 
places she may visit. We make no appeals to gallantry or sympathy, 
but bespeak for her such reception and patronage as are justly due 

to the testimonials she brings, and the achievements of her pen. 

Southern Danner, Athens, Ga., and Charleston Courier of July ‘L^th. 

. . . The leading journals of the South endorse her almost 

unanimously. . . . Gayly sarcastic, not sour or morose. . . . 

She could have no better names, in any respect, than are found amono- 
her endorsers in every section. . . . The religious gems in Cen- 

soria Lictoria, the first of these two books in one, are gems of their 
kind. ... Its shafts are many, and fearlessly aimed, but never 
at an improper mark. . . . We stop the press to announce the 

arrival of Louise Elemjay, tlie highly gifted Southern authoress. . . 
If others have more notoriety, what she has is of a higher and better 
order every way. . . . She comes to us with an enviable reputa- 

tion ; . . . but, to the shame of our chivalry be it spoken, suffering 


NOTICES OF THE WORK. 


severely from one of those “personal efforts to secure patronage” 
which are a disgrace to the heads and hearts of any Christian com- 
munity which leaves an afflicted lady to make them. . . . Doubly 
disgraceful when that lady is Louise Elemjay, (L. M. J.,) “the 
refined, high-bred lady, and acknowledged woman of genius.” 
There is no place in the South that should not feel honored by her 
visit, and ready and proud to furnish her one or two good canvassers. 

. . . If our men forget the admiration due to her surpassing 

talent and moral heroism, where are our ladies ? . . . 

A book that will bear one reading is a good book, as the times go ; 
but this one keeps on improving. . . . What are our Southern 

publishers thinking of, not to take it up ? . . . Good for the 

young and the old — such a writer is quite a public benefactor. . . . 
Claim her, most decidedly, as a Southern author. Though not 
Southern born, most of her life has been, as her sympathies are, 
entirely with us. . . . Southern patriotism alone should sustain 

her nobly ; but we ask nothing for her but justice to genius. . . . 
Save us from our friends. We blush for very shame, to think how 
many trample on the pride of the lady and the author, by forcing 
her to accept patronage in charity, or no patronage at all ; and run 
after others who would never have won her distinction under her 
disadvantages. . . . These make her, as she says, “somewhat 

like those old comets, little talked of until they are near;” but there 
is no disputing the fact^ — she has won the distinction, and to an ex- 
tent the reader of a few local sheets only cannot know. It is her 
proud boast too, to owe “ not a solitary puff to a hireling critic or 
venial press.” But who reads a Southern book? Will New Itork 
and Boston ever give us leave ? . . . Genius is of no country 

or section : we protest against making it sectional. But away with 
this servile homage to Northern and foreign authors, (that are no 
better, perhaps not half so good,) and shameful neglect and injustice 
to our own. . . . Louise Elemjay, Mrs. or Miss, is not simply 

a keen satirist and amusing writer. As a poet she should stand 
high; higher, perhaps, than she herself suspects. . . . Faults 

she unquestionably has — no writer so truly original could be with- 
out— but brave truths, earnest inquiry, and searching thought, 
worthy the careful attention of the wise and the good, often flash 
out, when least expected, in the brilliant pages of Rising Young 
Men and Censoria Lictoria. — {Extracts from Columbia, Greenville, 
and Abbeville papers, Marion {S. (7.) Star, Wilson {N. C.) Ledger, 
Petersburg {Va.) Express, Wilmington, Raleigh, Greensborough, and 
other editors and verbal critics, of North and South Carolina chiefly.) 


ANALYSIS, GEAMMAE AND EHETOEIO 
CONDENSED. 


IN MEKCr TO UNFOETUNATE SUFFERERS, COMPELLED TO 
TEACH AND STUDY GKAMMAE A VAST DEAL TOO MUCH. 

by L. L. M. J., author of “letters and miscel- 
lanies.” IN PRESS. 


Extracts of Testimonials. 

•1 bringing to the minds of younir 

pupils the most difficult rules of grammar, thus saving much tinfe and 
labor to both pupil and teacher; and at the same time, sufficiently com- 
prehensive, to include all that is necessary to a good practical under 
Btandmg of the English language.-PHtntP^aW H.IZ rEcK«s“pp« 
(t Vice^Pres. of Sharon Temale College^ Madison, Miss. 

• ‘ ’ U* A compiler does not profess to add any thing new to the 

science but only to make it more brief and less irksome, though includ- 
in extra and much needed elementary and collateral information • and 
^hat she has attempted I think she has well accomplished— her ’ easy 
colloquial style rendering that attractive which has hitherto been so ex 

Sto^^ T?''d "" ^ younger class of pupils.— J oseph II. 

Eaton, LL. D., Pres. Union University, Murfreesboro, Tenn. 

After concurring fully with Pres. Eaton’s remarks, I would add that I 
consider it one of the very few elementary works, really adapted to tie 
wants and capacities of the youthful mind ; and containino- as it les 
multwn et idoneum in par vo, I augur for it an earlv j 

sive circulation.-r. C^Cossixr, D D., 

Lebanon, Tenn. ^umbei land University, 

specifying its peculiarities, I would cordially recom- 
mend it to public patronage.— Wm. J Wfi t fr it d d . J recom- 

College (temporarVy suspended), Shdhymlle, Ky. ' ’’ 

Cam 


NOTICES OF THE WOEK. 


Shall adopt it without fail. . . . Shall be gratified to have 

the opportunity. — Mrs. J. A. Tevis and Rev. D. T. Stuart, A. M., 
Principals of Kentucky Female Seminaries, the former having 223 pupils 
at the close of her fifty -ninth session, June, 1854. 

“I miss nothing that young ladies usually learn from two books 
of twice the size,* and find much not contained in either.” — Verbal 
critique by a highly successful ex-teacher. 

“ I am with the Grammar. . . . Well, I think it 

than ANY we have in use. ... It economizes time and labor 

most astonishingly, but its gist may be found in , (some three or 

four books of equal size named,) a-n-d we publish those books.”— 
Verbal comments of N. E. Savans and an eminent Boston Publisher in 
1855. 

... We have no hesitation in saying that it is well adapted to 
enlist the attention of the young, and impart, in a very short com- 
pass, a correct knowledge of the principles of the language. The 
style is clear, concise, and familiar, the elementary instruction inci- 
dentally given, extensive and useful, and the chapter on Prosody far 
more perspicuous and satisfactory than usual. We therefore think 
it merits and will receive a fair share of public attention and favor. 

William T. Davis, 1 Pres. 

W. W. SuDOLATH, / Prof, of Lan. . 
Masonic College, Lexington, Mo., Sept., 1857. 

Mrs. Elemjat: — 

I examined and exhibited the proof-sheets of your Grammar to 
the teachers of our Convention. They think it would be a valuable 
accession to our school-books, and a most useful book for the library, 
as a book of reference. I feel confident it will be extensively 
used in our schools, when ready for use. 

With profound respect, 

E. S. Mitchell, A. M. 

Brunswick, Mo., Oct. 4, 1857. 

... A most “valuable accession ;” it is, in short, just the thing 
we want, and will, I feel confident, be extensively used, when ready 
for use, which I hope will be very soon. .James M. Dillard. 

James M. Dillard, Rev. Professor, and ex- Principal of 3Iale Academy, 
Jamesville, Va. March, 1859. 


* 180 pp., 18mo, in larger tj'pe than usual. 


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y 









RISING YOUNG MEN, 


AND OTHER TALES. 


nr 


LOUISE ELEMJAY, 

'I 

AUTHOR OF “ LETTERS AND MISCELLANIES,” AND “ CENSORIA LICTORIA. 


FOURTH EDITION. 


NEW YORK: 

JOHN F. TROW, PRINTER & STEREOTYPER, 379 BROADWAY, 

CORNER OF WHITE STREET. 

1859. 




19734 


Enteeed, according to Act of Congress, In the year 1859, by 
E. M. KINGSLEY, FOR THE AUTHOR, 

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
District of New York 


Southern 






.'i 


OUR EXPERIENCE. 


AN OWRi; TRUE TALE. 


Literary Success. — The ordinary means to secure it, es- 
pecially when a new name is to he introduced, are to announce 
some time beforehand, what an astonishing genius, long known 
as such in private circles, is about to come before the public ; 
then keep the whole country posted up, from time to time, on 
the rise and progress of this new star. Correspondents, and 
the large houses count theirs by hundreds and thousands, know 
they must'take, if desired, a certain number of copies, and do 
their best to sell them, and that it is for their interest to sell a 
great many more. They of course advertise freely in their lo- 
cal papers and shop windows; others can’t afford to have their 
custom drawn off by the new attraction, so they send on, too, 
for copies, which ihey are not privileged to return, if unsold at 
the end of six months. 

These orders and consignments thus manoeuvred for, for 
months, are then proclaimed as so many thousands sold in 
“one day,” and, immense sensation! the great book 
OF THE "season 1 1 UNPRECEDENTED SUCCESS 1 ! ! &C., &C., 

&c., stare and glare in the biggest, and blackest, and 
reddest of letters, till the bedazzled public is forced to 
buy, and profess to like, whether it really does or not. Espe- 


4 


AN OWRE TRUE TALE. 


cially wlien publishers ‘‘ can’t half fill orders fi om first edi 
tion ” — the second being fortunately nearly, not to say quite 
ready all the time, and labelled, very possibly, third, or fourth 
and the entire press is reporting how many thousands “ the 
distinguished author ” has refused for the copyright. Whether 
he ever had the olFer, or it was made in good faith, not merely 
to be refused, is rather an open question in the minds of some 
people ; but when the good of the trade requires it, and there’s 
small hope of the contumacious subject’s dying off, “ peaceably 
as a good Christian should, for the benefit of his own reputa- 
tion and other people’s coffers,” that’s how to get up a great 
LITERARY SUCCESS, or distinguished author.— Palmyra Sen- 
tinel. 


J usT so, Mr. Sentinel ; but listen now while we give 
in ‘‘our experience,” and you shall hear what sort of 
auspices were accorded to us and our eldest. Mind, 
though, we are going to tell it all our own way, be the 
same more or less, and if any body don’t like that, let 
him tell it better himself ; but hands off— none of your 
scissoiings about us 5 we and the printer’s imps can 
leave out words enough, any how. 

^ Well, then, its so-called publishers, but mere job 
printers on credit, took upon themselves to admit and 
exclude pages to suit themselves, stereotyped ones not 
excepted [see hiatus in hooTc).^ to disregard our well- 
known wishes as to bindings of first edition, our express 
orders as to that of third, and insert, without so much 
as saying “ by your leave,” fourteen pages of advertise- 
ments, for which authors have to pay fromj^y^ to twenty- 
five dollars each, and afterwards refuse, practically, to 
make either credit or the slightest equivalent in kind 
for the same. 


AN OWRE TRUE TALE. 


5 


Second. Having abetted the bantling’s birth out of 
pure, disinterested kindness, to the very helpless, home- 
less, maternal, who first waited on them with written 
communications which she could not then speak, they, 
and the unspiritual god,” circumstance, set themselves 
to kill it ofiT, if they could, by recpiiring her to secure 
earlier payment to them, and present bread and shelter 
for herself, by engaging, personally, as best she might, 
in the sale. 

Third. The law requiring no man to be benevolent, 
they evaded all written promise to facilitate her ope- 
rations, pay ten per cent, on all printed at their expense 
from her plates, and put the book in circulation among 
the Trade, by the ordinary means ” — the last time, in 
j)resence of witnesses, and on the ground, that, if not 
ungrateful in desire, under the existing premises, such 
contract or estimate was “ impracticable for want of ster- 
eotyping and other bills, and wholly needless in itself, 
as their boohs would show every thing.” 

Fourth. Their EXTRA-ordinary efforts to “put the 
book in circulation,” amounted to one simple (reputed) 
announcement in the Literary World, one agency in 
Hashville, Tennessee — of which “Books ” had no trace, 
and the sole manager, professedly and confessedly, no 
knowledge till acquired from herself and agent person- 
ally — and the hunting up, and selling, clandestinely, to 
a relative of her own, every copy.Bansmitted by them, 
and at their own instance, to their correspondents in 
Hew York — leaving him, to mention the fact inciden- 
tally some six or eight months later, and her, to find 
out by her learning, what had become of an equal num- 
ber of editorial and other presentation copies. H. B. 


6 


AN OWKE TRUE TALE. 


Her “ learning ” proving “ sorely scanty,” could onlj 
opine that of them might possibly have been sent 
to her subsequently — nobody knows for certain, at least 
she donh, and any how, that wasn’t exactly putting 
them in circulation “ among the trade.” 

Fifth. To ‘‘ facilitate her operations,” they heljDed 
them over the left,” most beautifully ; — but stop, you 
shall have chapter and verse for that facilitation. 
First., then, by promising jper Telegraph of Jan. 2Tth, 
1853 — less than one month from issue, and just twelve 
from “ suspension and rather cool advice to forego re- 
sumption,” to put the second edition to press imme- 
diately. 2dly, by purchasing the paper March 2d 
and forwarding on the 15th, so that it came to hand 
April 6th. 3d, by denying per letter of June 1^^, the 
receipt of draft which had been cashed May 4th, and 
for no conceivable reason, but to ignore the accompany- 
ing order. Fourth., by deferring the issue and receipt 
of third edition, (also called “second,” in reverse of 
common practice) to Sept, and Oct. 1st, and reporting 
the “whole edition bound up and subject to order,” 
though less than half the 1250 ordered in April and 
May, had been printed; thus betraying her into ar- 
rangements not otherwise made, from which much fur- 
ther loss of time, stock, profit, prestige, and convales- 
cence inevitably ensued. 

Sixth. Having prevented, as effectually as if inten- 
tionall}^ the accumulation of much means, and the en- 
tire extinction of their own control over plates, they 
kindly waived, for the time, the proffered payment in 
full, of Oct. 18th, and otherwise so directly abetted the 
publication of a Text-book, wanted for immediate intro- 


AN OWEE TKUE TALE. 


7 


duction under the best auspices of three States, that it 
was put to press (by another firm, their own being ‘‘ too 
busy,”) on the 20th instant. A few weeks later, when 
plates were nearly ready, and funds all exhausted, they 
defeated the issue^ and with it the simultaneous one of 
some hundreds of “ Letters and Miscellanies,” which 
might otherwise have secured its eventual completion. 

Seventh. They effected this, 1st, by getting from 
her relative,” before it was due^ and out of supposed 
kindness to herself, a sum, which when due, and paid, 
was pledged to the other firm. 2d. By keeping stereo- 
typer, who, aside from a doubtful and subsequently 
protested note, was no further payable except from her 
remittances, in full belief that she had made none, for 
five months after he should have been fully paid; 
and, of course, quite ready to strike the first blow at 
her credit, when called upon for plates. 3d. By them- 
selves showing up sum total of their own account f (in- 
cluding his, very justly) and very unjustly, leaving^ if 
not leading, enquirer to suppose that identical $250 
stereotyping item, due by her., not themselves, else- 
where ; then suppressing, at the same time, all hint of 
over $600 cash receipts, including the $100 note, origi- 
nally accepted by and through them, at par; and 
finally by refusing, then and since, either to use, or 
suffer the use of old plates, (except when no one could 
be found to use them,) and, per .consequence, making 
her eventually as obnoxious to the new, and compara- 
tively poor firm somewhat victimized with herself, as 
they had previously to stereotyper, and with far less 
chance than himself, of any ultimate redress. 

Eighth. Though one of their members did, it is 


8 


AN OWKE TRUE TALE. 


true, correct the grosser misrepresentations made in his 
absence, he declined all further effort to reinstate the 
hard-earned credit, so wantonly broken down ; though 
the junior member of new firm offered — according to 
his own written statement — to give his personal security 
to his own partners, and take up and complete both her 
jobs in a few weeks, if the old firm, or individual mem- 
ber, would only loan the requisite paper, or facilitate 
the purchase on four months’ credit ; — refused this sim- 
ple act of common justice, ^^with a hard-hearted obsti- 
nacy^ enough to make a pirate blush.^^ Pray excuse 
the junior, he probably wasn’t used to being victimized 
as eels and Irishmen are to being skinned and hung, 
and certes, didn’t know how soon the hard-hearted^ s 
great “ milk of human kindness ” would make him offer 
to furnish an equal, or nearly equal amount in cash, 
and get her well walled in and hermetically sealed 
down in some living tomb of his selection, (to which, 
had slie only been a State resident, she might perhaps 
have been eligible, in the course of fifteen or twenty 
years) provided she would only relinquish all further 
effort. ^ “ The effort,” being of course, all there was to 
relinquish, Is'ame, fame, friends, position, and “ a con- 
science void of offence,” which no idle owner of a 
buiied ^‘talent” can ever have, not being worth a 
thought, much less an allusion j any more than were the 
several hundreds of tangible property in unsold books 
and old plates, not to mention the new, (not then known 
to be scarce worth correcting) and the two copyrights 
not then taken out. 

Ninth. Finding her about as grateful for that, or 
any other chance to “ eat the bitter bread of charity,” 


* AN OWKE TRUE TALE. 


9 


and be “ set quick i’ the eartb, and bowled to death 
with turnips ” — no, cabbage-heads — as any living mor- 
tal with three grains of common sense might know any 
woman would be, who honestly believed, that “ what 
man has doi^^, man may do,” and had known a woman, 
who once did put a book to press, as a last resource,”^ 
on borrowed capital, lose it {per failure of contractors^ 
Jan, 1852) with what was far harder to spare or 

regain, sacrifice her wardrobe to arrears on board, a 
fifty dollar dental plate, to drugs for a palsied tongue, 
then travel alone,, helpless, sometimes speechless from 
debility as well as disease — raise the means to wait on 
Publishers — get the Book out, and finally leave with 
thirty cents only, nearly one thousand dollars in ar- 
rears, and realize between fourteen and fifteen hundred 
dollars, within the next eight months ; and finding too, 
just about the time that one of the old, forefront literati 
had “ long been anxious to see the boolcf and notice 
after notice — not mere penny-a-line pufis bought and 
sold like any other commodities — but volunteer cri- 
tiques from unknown, yet well-known critics in the 
high places and by places of the republic of letters, 
evinced that there was good logic, critical acumen, and 
common honesty enough yet extant, to infer ^ that a 
publication so effected^ could not be exactly common- 
place, and see, and acknowledge merit, wdiere predis- 
posed to find none ; finding, we say, that she actually 
had achieved the taking out of copyrights, that very 
arduous and complicated measure, that they were al- 
w^ays “ taking measures ” to do, (as perhaps they were) 
they forthwith proclaimed the afifair a failure it cer- 
tainly hadn’t lacked their good aid to become so— and 
1 # 


10 


AN OWKE TRUE TALE. • 


with this (by way of inducement probably) offered the 
plates, in the same breath for sale. When taken up, by 
more than one responsible party, and asked, as they 
invariably were, for “a fair mercantile statement, as 
the indispensable preliminary to some ari^ngement of 
the kind that should be mutually satisfactory,’’ they as 
invariably refused, either by captious replies and un- 
reasonable demands, or contemptuous silence ; a play- 
ing ‘‘ fast and loose,” which betrayed more inclination 
to keep than part wdth plates, especially as they refused 
ad interim.^ either to take mortgage for whatever might 
prove to be justly due, and suffer their use, or accept 
cash down for a smaller emission than u&ual, and a trifle 
on arrears. 

Tenth. Though professing from first to last, by word 
and letter, to be making, and wishing to make 
profit on transaction^ the paper, uniformly named in 
conversation as eight dollars per ream, was charged, in 
apologies for account (rendered Oct. 18th and later in 
’53) at eight fifty., and the bindings of a certain style 
twenty-five or thirty cents copy^ above the custom- 
ary price, if gentlemen in, and out of, the trade, in 
New York, Boston, Louisville and St. Louis, are compe- 
tent authority. A tolerably broad margin, one would 
think for profit, not to hint at the possibility of any 
other errors of “ omission or commission,” save the un- 
credited seventy dollars’ worth ot advertisements, men- 
tioned away back in the beginning, before we got into 
the sixteentKl'ies. And on the whole, not so very re- 
markable, perhaps, after all, that they should rather 
prefer “ cash down ” and no (][uestions asked or expla- 
nations given. 


AN OWKE TEUE TALE. 


11 


True, the affair,” might be altogether too insignifi- 
cant for their attention, but inasmuch as they did insist 
on having that “ one hundred cash down,” called 
“ fifty cents on the dollar,” it’s quite a pity they could 
not, or would not, gratify a woman’s curiosity to hnow 
whether it really was “ fifty,” or a hunck’ed, or hundred 
and five, as she most devoutly believes — something un- 
fortunate, that a consignment of 134 copies (if their 
previous statements were reliable) should come back 
minus fourteen^ when recalled, almost immediately, 
unopened. A little singular, that their hooJcs^ which 
were to show “ eveky thing,” should in the end, 
‘^show nothing^ (it was said) by which to determine 
how many of the 1500 printed, had been delivered to 
her order, or what proportions of the three several edi- 
tions, had been bound in the respective styles, known 
as T. M. Gilt^ Muslin Plain^ and Mus. Gilt ; and de- 
cidedly unlucky, that the very one whose numbers and 
proportions did happen to be known to a mathematical 
certainty, should chance to show a deficiency of ten 
copies, and an overcharge of $37 32 in the simple item 
of “ binding,” even at their specified prices. 

Don’t delude yourself, anybody, that doesn’t mean 
‘‘specified” in caricature of bill, though they are finda- 
ble, within six or eight months of it. And quite a cu- 
riosity it is too, in its w^ay, with its vague entries of “ a 
Box,” a “ Package” — forwarded apparently long before 
paper was bought, or printing done — and small cash 
credits per no person or time in particular ; owing 
probably to remissness of payers in not reporting them- 
selves, accidentally and incidentally, before “books” 
were posted up. Possibly their binders might have 


12 


AN OWRE TRUE TALE. 


been found more explicit — strange they never thought 
of that, for it isn’t exactly in the common “ course of 
human events,” for a creditor to lock up the tools of a 
debtor, who is paying him off, at the rate of sixty dol- 
lars a month in despite of him, unless he means to pay 
himself better; Some may have done it away back in 
the dark ages, before the whole ‘‘free and enlightened ” 
got posted up to spring-traps and double-locks, then 
found themselves locked out too, and playing “ Dog in 
the Manger,” only to illustrate the “Dog and his 
Shadow,” most beautifully ; but all of the ilk must be 
too wise for that, in these days, and now, with all these 
hints thrown out for their edification, it’s to be hoped 
ours, will be able to make some nearer approximation 
to a “ fitting basis for an equitable settlement because 
“ two wrongs, don’t always make one right,” any more 
than the withholding — voluntarily or involuntarily — 
some few dollars, more or less, that may be their due, 
indemnifies us for Damages inflicted through their faith- 
lessness, caprice, or cupidity. Still, if they never 
should get them before making some such “ approxima- 
tion,” we shouldn’t very much wonder. 

Neither should they, that after considering that they 
had “ somehow ” retarded their own payment, and 
waived it (for the time) wdien protfered in full, next 
made it impracticable, then demanded it on despotic 
and most humiliating terms — much like demanding 
“ bricks without mortar,” only “ a little more so ” — on 
Account too, which they either would not, or dared not 
exhibit ; and considering too, that the net proceeds of 
books collected, would neither sufiice to pay for old 
plates and use them afterwards, nor set up either Text- 


AN OWRE TKUE TALE. 13 

Book or “Bevised Edition,” de novo^ an unreasoning 
animal^ (incompetent of course, to reason very pro- 
foundly) should conclude eventually, that no law of 
God, or man required her to love her neighbor a great 
deal better than herself, or condemned the instinct of 
self-preservation, which prompted the investment of 
funds in another work ; if the first Bd pages of our 
youngest may so be called. And that’s why the poor 
wee thing had to come into the wmrld “ half-grown,” 
and “ come up ” (like little heathen come-by-chance) 
without any godfather, and our ill-used First, and un- 
born Second, to be laid ignominiously on the shelf, to 
hide their time. And if any impartial literary inquest 
don’t pronounce theirs a clear case of unprovoked 
Lynching, Branding, Ostracism, “Indirect Assassina- 
tion,” and premature strangulation, then we’d just thank 
somebody to overhaul the criminal records, and help us 
to the proper technicals — those are about as graphic, as 
any our vocabulary afiPords. 

“ There now ! we’ve spoke in meeting ! ! ” And 
don’t care either, for we’ve “ got the documents ^'* — most 
of them in their own hands too — and seeing we are 

“ Up on our feet and in for it now,” 

the way we mean to “ improve the occasion,” isn’t “ a 
little and stop, but a great deal and go on ; ” for it’s 
high time you knew, Mr. Everybody and everybody 
else, that there’s more than one kind of “ordinary 
means,” a ^''how to do it^"* and ^^how not to do iV^ 
Tes, and always will be, so long as the lion’s share of 
spoils belongs to Publishers any how, and all the bal- 
ance if they can get it ; for it stands to reason, that an 
2 


14 


AN OWEE TELE TALE. 


Author postlmmously distinguished, costs less and pays 
best, being less addicted in that case, to clamoring lor 
even the jackal’s share, when you happen to get fleeced. 
So when it’s perfectly safe to try, the way now not to 
DO IT is simply to profess great literary taste and much 
personal kindness, and leave the shameless perpetrator 
of '' black and white,” bound hand and foot, to sink or 
swim as best he may. If witch-like he does swum not- 
withstanding, and there’s some little danger that he 
may reach shore, treat him at once to the wutches fate. 
It’s only humane, you know, to throw out a rope, and if 
it does chance to be a lasso^ wdiy accidents will happen 
— nobody can blame the heir at law^ — and a splendid 
newspaper monument- surely ought to atone. If it 
don’t, and the ill-conditioned, nine-lived lusus won’t 
die, any wuiy you can flx it, just let him keep on living 
— if he can — wdio wants his “ sour grapes ? Or who’s 
green enough to suppose that one Publisher’s going to 
countenance the escapades, of another one’s “ fugitives 
from labor ? ” 

If anybody is, let him try it once, if he wants a good 
time generally, and he’ll find that the Messires A. B. 
are invisible, and don’t respond, 0. D. E. F. “ can’t 
possibly undertake any thing new for a twelvemonth to 
come,” Gr. II. “ don’t publish that kind of books,” I. J. 
K. “ don’t publish any thing else, but can^t look at any 
thing moee, awfully afraid of breaking dowm with 
what’s on hand now.” L. M. “ don’t reprint from other 
Publishers,” (save when they can sponge on a foreign 
author^ H. O. more than suspect that this one don’t 
toady ize ‘‘ the prevailing sentiments of the North and 
Efist ” — (no use to piihlish then^ the South and West 


AN OWKE TEUE TALE. 


15 


leing extinct)-^F. Q. don’t publish school-books,” E. 
S. “hav^ got one of their own,” T. U. thinks this, 
“ economizes time and labor most astonishingly^^ but 
has “ a Partner ” (two of them tor that matter) suspects 
they believe in ‘‘ the principle of the subdivision of la- 
bor,” in school-books more especially — tancies “the 
gist of this may be found in” — some three or four others 
of equal size, named, and (by way of finale) winds up, 
‘‘a, n, d we^ publish those BoohsP Y. W. are in the 
wrong longitude for being a little more inaccessible 
than the Grand Lama, but “ don’t publish much them- 
selves,” tell those who do, that all our youngest lacks^ 
is “the extra pages, an attractive dress, and good 
Publisher, to bring it before the right hind of readers,” 
get the same old story, “ canH undertahe any thing new 
for a year to come.^'^ E'ow it so happens that we are 
extant this year, and what is more, with no clever con- 
juror to put us in a state of suspended animation (along- 
side books) when the waters Bibliothique “are trou- 
bled,” till everybody else has done stepping down 
before us. And so the elfish little waif, though 
rather outgrowing the old flimsy dress so repulsive to 
the right hind of readers^ stands small chance of getting 
a better, till married to some of our Kising Young Men 
and then it’s just as like as not, some rising young 
men’s hopeful papas will turn up their patrician noses 
at it, for lack of some old Invisibility’s Imprimatur. 
X. V. would to be sure have given it theirs long ago, 

“ unheard, unseen,” the “ Little Allspice ” was 

“ big enough ” — mind you, not good enough, but large 
enough “ to sell for one dollar, or one fifty j)er copy,” 
and the unlucky Maternal “ prepared to give them a 


16 


AN OWRE TRUE TALE. 


bonus of $500, for tlie same, as many more copies for 
distribution,” and of course set tliem well a going with 
the plates. Strange they didn’t add, ‘‘and cost of 
transportation and dog cheap at that, it they had. 
ISTobody should make a common hack of us and ours, 
if we were a Publisher, for five times that amount 5 but 
then we were not, and are not, and 

wouldn’t give five dollars, no nor five cents, for it, if 
we were. ITo, honestly ecovned^ and foAvly ctcGOvded^ 
that’s the word for us — the genuine article, or none at 
all. “ Thank God I can now dispense with Humbug,” 
said some old celebrity wPo had made his fortune. 
Thank God we never had any to dispense with, is our 
response. We can live without a “great literary suc- 
cess,” couldn’t live under a counterfeit one — can do 
without the “ fine purple,” never did feel mean enough 
to wear shams. 

But does anybody suppose now, that w^e are going 
to be badgered off the track, in that kind of style, by 
any knot, or knots of “ bullies called cliques^'^ tliat ever 
lived, or good enough to die, that other folks may live % 
Not we — we believe in Life Insurances we do; and 
don’t believe at all, in the common honesty, or human- 
ity — the Christianity^ is of course non est inmntus^ no- 
body suspects the existence of that — in any church, 
that don’t Insure the life of a Pastor it half starves on 
some poor pitiful pittance of a salary, or compels — ^by 
might of “ the unspiritual god, circumstance ” — to live 
up to the very last fraction of a liberal one ; and pre- 
cious little, in the integrity, or affection of that hus- 
band, or father — with no fortune save his own exer- 
tions, or safe out of reach of all whirlpools of speculation 


AN OWRE TRUE TALE. 


17 


that don’t Insure his own, in a good round sum too ; 
for of all the poor, miserable paupers in a miserable ex- 
istence, Heaven help and deliver the patrician pauper. 
Earth won’t, it is only too glad of the chance, to set its 
foot on some unused neck, and see it writhe like a 
crushed worm, under the infliction. But that’s neither 
here nor there, and for the Jnatter of Life Insurance,® 
we’ve got Washington Irving’s (‘‘if haply she withers, 
she lives forever ”) for ours, and sure that name’s good 
anywhere. If anybody wants our picture, by way of 
collateral, he’s welcome to take it, that is to pay an 
Artist to And out our whereabouts, and come and sketch 
it. We tried sitting, once upon a time, to that grand 
old Artist Apollo j but the way his master of ceremo- 
nies put our head into the stocks, got one of his myr- 
midons into position, and instructed us to look at the 
point of his elbow, was positively awful. It gives us a 
crick in the neck, a stitch in the side. Lockjaw, Stra- 
bismus, and St. Yitus’ dance, every time we think of 
it. Ho, we never can try that sort of thing again ; but 
if anybody ever did dream, that we shouldn’t stand in 
our own shoes, till nobody else could, we trust that fal- 
lacy is pretty well “nailed to the counter,” or other- 
wise used up, more by token, that they are pretty well 
worn out already, and never ’were fit, for any thing but 
a regular, squabfoot ragbaby, of the Flatfoot tribe to 
stand in. 

Does any other mortal man presume to suppose 
either, that we are going to be killed otf, “ by a criti- 
cism ? ” Possibly^ for there is “ a very plentiful lack ” 
of common sense extant, that’s certain, or wm shouldn’t 
be so everlastingly bored, go where we will, with the 


18 


AN OWRE TRUE TALE. 


same stale, well meanly ‘‘talking good,” useless sort of 
Advice, that none but a brute or idiot could ever need ; 
or tm^tured^ almost to madness, bj the endless iteration 
and reiteration of “Couldn’t you do this,” or “Why 
don’t you do that,” as if the thing had only need to be 
thought on, to be done, and never had been, or could 
be thought of, but for that individual representative of 
the ubiquitous, one-ideaed institution. Killed hy a criti- 
cism f Not by several, we reckon, after surviving 
about a million and a half of these, If I were yousf 
and “ couldnH yous and if any such self-complacent, 
would-be impossibility achievers, do still look for “ a 
consummation so devoutly to be wished,” we are aw- 
fully afraid, that eaten by caterpillars will be the 
coroner’s verdict, on some melancholy event, before 
very long. And if we were they^ we’d represent King 
John, of Lack-land notoriety, from now to the end of 
time, as we expect to do, but that we’d Tceep out of Iowa 
this year^ for locusts and caterpillars must live, and 
they do say the “ varmints ” are taking every green 
thing before them, up there. 

But killed off, indeed — that’s a likely story ! Do 
they know, or did they never hear, how easily one 
Samuel Wordsworth, of modest memory, was killed off 
— or how coolly he turned round, and told people, that 
if they didn’t like him, they had better — that it was the 
fault of their own morbid tastes, and sound asleep intel- 
lects, not his compositions, and finally made them own up ? 

And why don’t they ignore, or repudiate, that idle, 
conceited Kobert Burns, that did 

“ Naething 

But stringing blethers up in rhyme, for fools to sing,’* 


an owke teue tale. 


19 


yet had the presumption, all the while, to think “ jnst 
as well of them,” before everybody else agreed with 
him, as after? Or, to come nearer home, do they re- 
membei how effectually our own Hawthorne was 
snuffed out, when the heedless critics didn’t think him 
worth criticising, and “rank and file” passed by, onej 
after another of his splendid articles, “ with cold uncom- 
prehending look,” till his Publisher had, as he, Peter 
Parley Goodrich, tells ns, himself, to get one of the 
“ right Mnd of readers," to belabor them soundly 
therefor, tell them (in effect) that if they really didn’t 
understand him, so much the worse for them — it was 
high time they did — and, in short, that he could think, 
himself, and meant others to think, and if he did put 
too much meaning to the page, it was because he had 
four times as much to put, as those who put too much 
page to the meaning. 

Well that critic, was what we call “sensible,'^ didn’t 
expect a book to read itself, or all of its meaning to lie 
on the surface ; knew it must be a small dealer, that 
could hang his whole stock in the shop window; and 
as for that too much page ” gentry, if they had to 
conjugate the verb, ‘Ho as we do, not is paid, 

as they do, ’twould be apt to improve them all mightily 
we reckon. For when one hasn’t been to church but 
once (very recently) since a non religious man in Frank- 
fort, sent his carriage twice in ’54, because unable,, 
alike, to woZh and sit through the service afterwards, 

01 liiie a hack, after all Uncle Sam’s and St. Ficayune’s 
Steamboat, E. E. and Hotel Fares, this thing called 
Steeeotyping, is rather expensive. Especially when 
'‘Messieurs the Typos,” take care to print their blun- 


20 


AN OWKE TEUE TALE. 


ders with ours, and make us pay for correcting both 
afterwards, or, worse still, let them alone, “ very se- 
verely.” 

And come to look at the thing philosophically, it 
don’t take a bit longer, to read 50 pages twice, than a 
150, consecutively ; and 07ily consider, how much 
lighter, the fifty, are to hold ; and, besides, you ought 
to be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Public, to go on vitia- 
ting your own taste, and stultifying your bi’ains 
over love-sick, blood and murder, and other namby 
pamby, till you can’t understand any thing but a 
regular old, “once there was,” sort of Tale. Like all 
these long-drawn tautologies, for instance, and just 
as if you hadn’t been told -them all before, over and 
often, only you wouldn’t exercise your mnemonics, in- 
ductives, and constructives enough, to put this and that 
together, and consider that most orthodox English 
words really have a meaning ; and the Trade, a good 
many Dictionaries, that they’d most likely be glad to 
sell. 

Just look at yourselves now. How many more re- 
spectable, if not racy magazinists, do you want to de- 
grade into very indifferent novelists, because they know 
you will read story-books, and won’t read much of any 
thing else? Oh, immensely innocent, and pious too, 
you are, over your Schnaaps and sylly-bubs ; but how 
long did you ever know anybody to hold out a cup of 
coffee at arm’s length, before there was some little dan- 
ger of its getting dashed down, if not dashed in your 
face ? It’s our opinion that you ought to be indicted, 
for corrupting the morals and manners of all these in- 
nocent authors, that you’ve got hard at work, helping 


AN OWRE TRUE TALE. 


21 ’ 


you to make a bigger fool of yourself, tlian there’s any 
occasion for ; when they’ve no natural genius for Lying, 
perhaps, or nothing special that way, and you know 
very w'ell, that that is a genius that may be superin- 
duced by liuman agency,” Hugh Blair to the con- 
trary notwithstanding. You remember him, don’t you, 
and how he distinguished himself in the Peloponnesian 
w^ar, wrote the Cervantes of Don Quixote, and was 
finally brought home' by Sir John Franklin, in an 
Egyptian Sarcophagus, from the ruined Temple of Az- 
tec? Of course you do, and how, as he much more 
justly remarks somewliere in the Life of Haroun A1 
Raschid, it’s “ Just as the twig is bent the tree’s in- 
clined,” though much of course depends on the skilful 
selection and adaptation of means. An unmitigated 
course of sprouts has, for instance, sometimes produced 
brilliant results, and in other cases, only made the 
hardened, dyed-in-the-wool, contumacities, a little more 
‘‘ cantankerous.” Even the sugarplum system, thougli 
according to our experience, and observation, much 
more uniformly efficacious, has been known to pall ; 
but you, with your judicious admixture of sprouts in 
the one hand and sugarplums in the otlier, can rarely 
chance to fail. And so here you liave got, ever so many 
specimens of your own handiwork plodding away, to 
get up all sorts of mendacious monstrosities (they don’t 
often get up any thing else), and mixing up^ “ fancies 
with realities,” till they hardly J^now themselves which 
is which, and you don’t care ; but stand all agog, ready 
to “ pin back the critter’s ears,” and swallow it whole, 
like any boa constrictor, then vow and declare, it’s 
every word ‘‘ true as preaching,” till you lialf-persuade 


22 


AN OWRE TRUE -TALE. 


yourself, if not the deluded author, that it actually 
is so. 

Mighty fine judge of ‘'preaching,” you are to be 
sure, and couldn’t half the time tell, to save you, 
whether the “ Orator of the day,” took his Text from 
the Shaster, or somewhere in “ the Book ot Jerusalem,” 
(’tisn’t likely it would make much difference) or whether 
the man that “ played on the harp ot a thousand 
strings,” hung it upon the willows by the “ waters ot 
Babylon,” or found it on a Black Moss, down in Louis- 
iana, but if ever we do have to fall into that gang and 
follow suit, oh, you have much to answer for; and 
here’s to hoping, you’ll have the grace to repent in 
time, lest a worse judgment come upon you, than some 
marvellously tame Stories, good for nothing but scaf- 
folding to hang Ideas upon. And pray don’t expect 
people to be so immensely sagacious, as to know what 
a house (or hexameter) is for, or how it was built, unless 
it’s properly labelled, and an ugly, old scaffolding, 
always kept paraded in front ; but do try, and demean 
yourself, “ with the respect due to human ignorance,” 
not copy the evil, outlandish ways, of one 

L. El-em-jay. 


Hmixirl Co.y Mo.^ Sept, hih, 1867. 


RISING YOUNG MEN.* 


CHAPTER 1. 


“ So it fling 

Forgetfulness around me, it shall seem 

To me, though to none else, a not unpleasing theme.” 


“"We come to reproach yon, Mrs. Lenox,” said the 
youngest of three visitors, just seated in one of the most 
strictly elegant saloons in the country. 

“May I ask for what?” calmly inquired the subject 
of animadversion. 

“ Oh, for spoiling our little party of yesterday, by 
keeping away its greatest attraction, ‘The belle of J^ew 
York,’ as Mr. Sinclair, the ‘Kising young Lawyer,’ is 
pleased to call her.” 

“If that means Miss Lenox, I am sure, neither 
Frances, nor myself, thank him for the epithet.” 

“Ho indeed mamma, it is making me entirely too’ 
stale, and commonplace.” 

“But you can’t imagine,” rejoined another, “how 
chagrined they all were, on finding you had gone with 

* A Tale of the olden time, away back, late in the first half of the 
nineteenth century. Reader, it was written for our amusement, in the 
weary hours of protracted convalescence, it is now published, for your?. 


24 


EISING YOUNG MEN. 


your mother, to old Mrs. Yan Cortlandt’s, instead of 
joining our party. If it hadn’t been for cousin Charles, 
and Leora Horton’s brother ‘ ^Vill,’ I don’t- know but 
they would have broken it up, altogether.” 

“ Yes Jane, and they might as well have left them- 
selves out any how ; for Mr. Russell looked as moody 
as a disappointed office-seeker, all the way, and Sin- 
clair, who is all wit and gallantry when Frances is 
]n’esent, was silent as the monks of La Trappe.” 

“ I pity his wife then, if he ever gets one ; a dreary 
life she will have of it, if so slight a matter unfits him 
for all social enjoyment.” 

“ A very sensible idea. Miss Lenox,” observed the 
senior member of the trio, who had hitherto been at 
liberty to do the thinking, while her sister and friend 
did the talking, “ I fear it would not have occurred to 
Lucy.” 

“ Oh, but I’ll tell him though, that you, and Fran- 
ces Lenox think so, and then Jane, won’t we be nicely 
revenged for his want of civility ? ” 

“Yes, especially when I add, that there isn’t the 
shadow of a doubt, that her mother is of the same opinion 
— I may, may I not Mrs. Lenox % ” 

“Certainly Miss Yan Lear, if you think it worth 
while ; for I really should think it passing strange, if 
my husband gave me nothing but sour looks and lacon- 
ics, every time he chanced to miss some little antici- 
pated pleasure.” 

“ And I, mamma, should take it very unkindly, if 
you treated me to Quaker meetings from morning to 
night, because he wasn’t always on hand.” 

“ Good, good. I’ll remember every word— they’ll all 
be capitally punished.” 


KISING YOUNG MEN. 


25 


“ Don’t flatter yourself too much, Miss Lucy, you 
are probably attaching too much importance to my 
daughter’s presence and opinion ; but really young la- 
dies, I hope your cavaliers behaved better than you 
represent.” 

‘‘hlot a whit, did they Laura?” Miss Yan Lear 
however saved “ Laura ” the trouble of reply. ‘‘ Oli I 
wish you could have seen them, Mrs. Lenox. There 
stood Sinclair, biting his lip and looking the very beau- 
ideal of a martyred lover, near him Russell, alternately 
twirling his gloves and making endless gyrations on the 
floor with the tip of his riding whip — for all the world 
like some master carpet weaver, intent on deciphering 
the last new pattern — in the next window, Red Tyler, 
the demi-millionnaire, muttering his vexation, and at 
length audibly expressing his ‘ half a mind ’ (perhaps 
it’s a fraction less) ‘ not to go a foot,’ and by way of 
finale — ” 

“ Charitably wishing all mothers in Heaven, I pre- 
sume, who absurdly fancy they have some claims to 
their daughters upon earth,” gaily added Mrs. Lenox, 
in a tone saying more plainly than a hundred words, 
“ Ro need to stop, Ms impertinence could only amuse.” 
“We are all vastly obliged.” 

“ Rot all, nor so very much, madam, can’t afiirm 
that his benevolent aspirations ever took so etliereal, or 
comprehensive a range. In tins instance, believe they 
were restricted to the especial benefit of yourself, and 
the venerable Mrs. Yan Cortlandt, whom he ‘devoutly 
wished at the bottom of Rew York Bay.’ ” 

“ Ro farther than that ? I expected it would liave 
been, ^Halifax'’ at least.” 

2 


26 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


“But of course, Miss Van Lear, you and Lucy re- 
warded Ms puppyism, by indefinite leave of absence,” 
drily remarked Frances Lenox. 

Lucy and I didn’t — it’s only your quiet, dignified 
people, who can do these tilings efi*ectively. Miss 
Morton, here, did I believe, offer him a furlough for 
ninety-nine years and a day, and that brought him to 
his senses.” 

“ ]^o occasion to boast of my prowess Jane, he be- 
stowed his ‘ tediousness ’ upon me for the rest of the 
day, in a way that was truly spiteful — only to think of 
the cunning malice of the creature.” 

‘‘iTot spiteful, nor meaning it for malice at all, he 
couldn’t afiord to lose Miss Morton’s tolerance,” thought 
Mrs. Lenox, but she merely said, “ According to your 
own account, young ladies, Frances does not seem to 
have lost much by her prior engagement ; but I hope 
Miss Morton, that the discourtesy of some few of your 
escorts, did not mar the enjoyment of the evening, very 
seriously ?” 

Oh no, madam, equestrian exercise is, you know, 
too exhilarating of itself for that, and thanks to others 
of the party, the excursion on the whole passed ofi* very 
agreeably.” 

“I can answer for Lucy, mamma, she was infinitely 
more amused at their doloroso looks, and hrusqueries, 
than she would have been by the most devoted gallan- 
tries.” 

“For the time Frances, but not more gratified per- 
haps. I don’t dispute, that the others did their devoirs 
like gallant knights; but Charles Van Lear has found 
his ‘ bright particular star,’ and Will’ FTorton, and little 
Fred Henley are mere boys.” 


KISING YOUNG MEN. 


27 


‘Little Fred Henley I’ well, tliat will do, for sncli 
a six-footer, minus little or nothing, as lie is,” exclaimed 
Miss Yan Lear. 

“ And as for the ‘ inere l)oy^ ” chimed in the elder 
Miss Morton, with a serio-comic look, “ I shall expect 
to hear no more insinuations about ‘ leading of Apes’ — 
Frederick Henley was a full year the oldest, when we 
were both children ; but I suppose a certain young lady 
of seventeen, or thereabouts, feels in such imminent 
danger of becoming an old maid, that she can’t afford 
to be entertained a whole evening, by ‘ mere boys.’ ” 

“Yes, no, yes,” returned Lucy, not the least discon- 
certed, “ that is, it’s my own fault if I don’t ; for with all 
the world, from eight to eighty, eternally saying ‘ Old 
maid^ in prose, rhyme, blank verse and every other 
conceivable form, just as if they couldn’t think of any 
thing else half bad enough to say, one must be uncom- 
monly stupid not to find out by the time she toddles out 
of her cradle, that she must get married, to escape that 
ne plus ultra of all detestability. So where’s the use of 
squandering precious time on youths barely out of years 
of m-discretion, especially when their hopeful papas in- 
sist on spiriting them off to other continents for centu- 
ries? And my own thoughtless father too, to connive 
at such a proceeding, as if he hadn’t the remotest con- 
ception, that he had more than one marriageable daugh- 
ter — ‘the unkindest cut of alF — so Fm sure I don’t see, 
what such transition humanity’s good for, except” — 
glancing archly at her sister — “ to help some demure 
spinster, with nothing else to do^ to pass off the time, 
the best way she can. But such trifling will not do foi 
us, will it Jane? We, cannot afford to wait half i 


28 


RISINa YOUNG MEN. 


cycloid, for gentlemen to get ready to propose, can 
we ? ” 

‘‘What a rattlebrain yon are Lucy,” said Miss Yan 
Lear, but Miss Morton was silenced ; a heightened 
color, seeming to say she was very well satistied with 
the result of her waiting, being her only response. 

“ Is young Henley going abroad on account of his 
health,” inquired Mrs. Lenox, more to relieve her em- 
barrassment, than secure information, she did not need. 

“ Hot exactly, I believe, but his father and mine, 
think it will do so young a man, and hard a student, no 
harm to travel a year or two, before he resumes his 
professional studies at Paris. After three or four years, 
papa says, ‘ that hoy will return a man^ and then, if 
my calculating sister here, does not consider herself en- 
tirely too antiquated for youthful society, she may not 
object to idling an hour or two, in his company.” 

. “ Or, if she chance to be a matron, we shall proba- 
bly find her manoeuvering for her daughters, in ad- 
vance.” ^ 

“Ho Jane, I shall drown them every one, after 
what Topographers are pleased to call ‘ the Barbarous 
custom of the higher class,’ in some Eastern nation, 
‘who destroy most of their female offspring as soon as 
born, from the difficulty of marrying them in their own 
caste.’ Barbarous, is it, I wonder what name they’d 
give to the ‘ fiery trials,’ we who are similarly situated 
in civilized lands, have to undergo ? ” 

“ Lucy, Lucy,” interposed her sister, “ I’m sure Mrs. 
Lenox, and all your acquaintance must think yours, 
might be found in a very low grade, if you are to run 
on in this style, much longer.” 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


29 


“Permit me to change the subject, hj inquiring 
when you leave for the Springs,” said Mrs. Lenox ap- 
prehending some retort more piquant than pleasant. 

“To-morrow or the day after,” replied Miss Morton. 

“Aunt Walton says she will wait ten days longer if 
you will be sure to go then,” added Miss Yan Lear. 

“ By no means, she must not think of it — we shall 
follow, in the course of three or four weeks ; but where 
I shall spend the intervening time is not decided.” 

“ Oh these interminable courts — I wish Judge Lenox 
would resign ; or leave the laws, and the constitution to 
take care of themselves and come home.” 

“He will write to Mr. Walton when he does, if not 
before, and arrange the plan of our Northern tour ; and 
I shall rely upon your aunt, to secure me the reversion 
of her rooms.” 

“We may depend then on meeting you in Quebec,” 
said Miss Morton, rising as Mrs. Lenox gave her assent. 
“ Come Lucy, you who are so chary of your own time, 
should not be so lavish of other people’s.” Thus ad- 
monished, Lucy relinquished the hand of Miss Lenox, 
and some demonstrations, more hoydenish than indica- 
tive of any serious match-making propensities; and 
made her adieux. 

“How wouldn’t she make a country romp of the 
first water,” half-soliloquized Francis Lenox, a few mo- 
ments later. 

“ Doubtless,” replied her mother, “ but her persi- 
fiage is the mere efiervescence of youthful vivacity ; 
still I do think, young ladies might find some less 
equivocal and more eligible subject, than love and mar- 
riage, for the safety-valve of their exuberant animal 


30 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


spirits. However, animadversions upon a departed 
guest, are neither polite, nor proper, my dear.” 

“Ho mamma, but wasn’t it strange, her sister was 
so confused by her nonsense ? Can it be possible tlie 
elegant and accomplished Laura Morton, fears becom- 
ing an old maid ? ” 

“Ho Frances, you misapprehended Lucy’s raillery. 
Her sister is but recently engaged to an officer in the 
navy, who has been warmly attached to her for several 
years.” 

“ Then what has he been procrastinating for, all this 
time ? I am afraid he isn’t half good enough for her 
now ! ” 

“ Arguing from the past to the future, my dear, he 
will ever be all that is manly and honorable.” 

“ Do you know him mamma ? ” 

“ Only by reputation, but his history is a very 
agreeable contrast to that of most of our ‘ Rising young 
men.’ ” If a slight sneer, lurked in the proud curl of 
the speaker’s beautiful lip, as she repeated the phrase, 
her daughter, “Heither kenn’d it nor cared,” but draw- 
ing still closer to her side, exclaimed, “Tell me all 
about it mamma, I should so like to know.” 

“ I am no Scherzerade Frances, but can give you 
the outlines, if you wish. His father, I am told, was a 
^resident of our neighboring city, and at the time of his 
"marriage, possessed of a handsome capital, and doing a 
small, but brisk business in the India line. Prior to 
the birth of his first child, (Laura’s intended,) his father- 
in-law proposed purchasing the dwelling and ware- 
houses he occupied, and settling them on his daughter ; 
an arrangement which would have saved her husband a 


RISING Noting men. 


31 


rental of several thousands per annum. Many men 
Frances, all vulgar-minded men, either from innate 
avarice, or unbridled love of domination, seem to con- 
sider themselves wronged^ if their wives are not placed 
in abject dependence on themselves. Mr. Marshall 
was not exempt from this weakness, and moreover he 
was ambitious of extending his mercantile operations.' 
Of course he did not fail to represent, how much more 
desirable floating capital, was to a man in his line, than 
real estate ; and set forth in most glowing terms, the 
folly and wickedness of creating ‘ separate interests be- 
tween man and wife,’ and ‘ making children indepen- 
dent of their father.’ You, who may never have heard 
this subject discussed, cannot imagine the amount of 
sophistry, miscalled ‘argument,’ which latent selfish- 
ness, long precedent, and lorn of rule^ can induce men, 
who are perfectly clear-headed and upright when the 
question is between man and man, to swallow, very 
complacently, where it is only the right of woman, that 
is at stake ; but somehow, ‘ Old Markham ’ continued, 
perversely and obstinately, blind to the feasibility 
of exposing an only and beloved child, to the con- 
tingence of future beggary. Mortified and irritated 
by his own disconafiture, and the old man’s calm- 
ness, the son-in-law rejected his proposal wfith bitter- 
ness, declaring that ‘ if he could not have the property 
in the form he wished, he would never have it at all.’ 

‘ As thee likes, son Charles,’ returned the father, ‘ thee 
is very welcome to do without it, but thee cannot pre- 
vent my caring for thee and my child ; ’ and so they 
parted, each to pursue his separate career. The lapse 
of fifteen years, found the once prudent merchant in- 


32 


RISING rOUNG MEN. 


fatuated with success, and infected with the madness of 
the times. His ships were in every sea, houses and 
lands, bank stock and real estate, acknoAvledged him 
for master ; but all would not do — he must triple his 
millions, so he fell to gambling in cotton speculations, 
water lots, and paper cities. In the full flush of suc- 
cess, he could afibrd to be condescending, so he hum- 
bled himself once more to ‘ Old Hard Fist,’ and solicited 
co-operation in his schemes. 

“‘Hay Charles,’ said the white-haired man, ‘thee 
will not live in thy wife^s house j but thee has never 
made acquaintance with Poverty. Maria and her chil- 
dren, must not want bread; nor will I jeopardize the 
roof, that covers my own gray hairs, to gorge the har- 
pies, that are speculating on thy wealth and mine to 
thy ruin.’ 

“ A few short months suflGiced to make the ‘ Merchant 
Prince ’ a semblance of the Dog and his Shadow ; and 
now, according to those humane and nothing-so-easy 
casuists,’ who decide so summarily, what is proper for 
other jyeojyle to do on these occasions, Mrs. Marshall 
should have withdrawn her sons from college, and 
bound them to some tradesman, consigned her oldest 
daughter to the galley-slavery of governessing, sent the 
younger to learn millinery, retired into obscure lodg- 
ings, and killed herself, very morally by sewing ; leav- 
ing it optional with her husband to ‘ take to drink,’ get 
a small clerkship, or shoot himself, whichever he 
thought proper. Much to the scandal of public morals, 
however, she did none of these ; and what is still more 
deplorable, her husband was constrained to learn by ac- 
tual experience, that it really was possible, to live in a 


RISING YOUNG MEN* 


33 


house he did not rent, and could not alienate. If he 
could only have had the satisfaction, of slaving on from 
dav to day, for some paltry pittance, with the comfort- 
able assurance that his family would starve, if he re- 
mitted his toils to seek more lucrative employment, it 
would doubtless have been a great alleviation to his 
sufferings ; but incredible as it may seem, he actually 
survived them several years. 

“ You conjprehend, I presume, that when his estate 
was brought to the hammer, ‘ the unnatural old wretch,’ 
as Mr. Markham was styled by the swindlers and vis- 
ionaries who had assisted his son-in-law in the laudable 
exploit, of plucking down ruin on his own head — had 
come forward and purchased a liberal portion of such 
property as had matter of fact existence ; and lost no 
time in drawing up, and recording a will, by which 
(after reserving a life interest for himself and daughter) 
he bequeathed the great body of his immense estate to 
his granddaughters, in trust for their natural heirs; who 
forfeit their inheritance to his other descendants, by 
omitting to execute, within a short time after attaining 
their majority, a similar instrument for tlie benefit of 
their posterity. The residue was assigned to his two 
grandsons, and their father appointed associate and re- 
siduary trustee, with a salary nearly equivalent to that 
of the Grovernor of the State.” 

“ But mamma, didn’t he give the Miss Marshalls 
any thing but the trouble of taking care of their chil- 
dren’s property ? ” 

“ They are allowed, I believe, one half the annual 
income after the death of their mother, the other, is to 
accumulate for the benefit of their natural heirs. Mrs. 

2 * 


34 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


Marshall had never been addicted to any of those pre- 
posterous extravaganzas, by which the ‘newly rich,’ 
contrive to remind the world, of their own intrinsic vul- 
garity, and doubtful pretensions ; and her husband’s 
salary being nearly equivalent to the support of the 
family, in their accustomed style, she was enabled to 
use most of her own income, to diminish either the 
number, or the claims of his creditors, as circumstances 
might require. The last dividend prior to his decease, 
however, barely reduced his liabilities within the verge 
of a hundred thousand; and of course the world at 
large — those of it in particular, who were nowise con- 
cerned, and creditors from whom no ‘ value ’ had been 
received — were immensely shocked at the ‘ bare-faced 
iniquity’ of a family’s ‘living just as well as ever,’ 
though the head of it, ‘ lived and died a Bankrupt ! ’ 
Injustice to Mr. Marshall, it should be observed, that 
sobered by experience, he discharged his trust, ably 
and well ; and soon after his decease, his sons took ad- 
vantage of an opportune rise in stocks, to sell out; 
vhereby diminishing their late father’s indebtedness 
ibout one half, (and their own inheritance as much as 
ts tenure allowed,) and then repaired to their respective 
professions. While so many of his brother officers are 
pihijig in idleness during ‘ these piping times of peace,’ 
Oharles, fortunately obtained both employment and 
preferment ; and within the last few months, a lucky 
windfall in the shape of a pirate’s hoard, has enabled 
him, with the aid of his mother and brother, to wipe 
off the stain of insolvency from the name of his 
father.” 

“ Why mother, I didn’t know it was so very dis- 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


35 


graceful to be a Bankrupt, unless a man was dishonesty 
as well as insolvent ! ” 

“My cliild, you don’t reflect on all the blighted 
hopes, and broken faith, and ruined fortunes, conjured 
■up by that hackneyed word ; or you would never think, 
there could be no dishonor in the term. ‘ As the son 
of a Bankrupt,’ said Midshipman, now. Lieutenant Mar- 
shall, ‘I cannot but feel, that I have lost caste in the es- 
timation of all right-thinking, high-minded men ; and 
never Dr. Morton, will I ask the hand of your daughter, 
wdiile the shadow of dishonor rests on the memory of 
my father. Neither will I seek, so to influence her 
affections, as may virtually condemn her to long, weary 
years of ‘ hope deferred,’ and perhaps at last throw the 
blackness of the midnight pall, over the brightness of 
her early hopes. I may fail, but if ever I can ofier her, 
the hand of an equals and a name she need not blush 
to hear ; she of all others is the wife of my choice.’ 
‘ God bless and prosper you young man,’ said the 
excellent father, shaking him warmly by the hand, 
‘ and grant I may yet live to call you, my son ! But 
this is a question for Laura to decide.’ ” 

“ Oh I know what Laura said, mamma — I know 
what I would have said — I will wait ! Well Lieuten- 
ant Marshall is a gentleman ; and worth waiting for. 
I wonder if his brother is like him — is he married 
mamma ? ” 

“Not that I know child, he resides somewhere at 
the South, I believe, but no Air Castles Frances ; I 
want you back on terra flrma. Is there no one nearer 
home, that you think worth ‘ waiting for,’ at the risk, 
not only of being called, but of heing an Old Maid ; or 


36 


EISING YOUNG MEN. 


would you prefer what Mrs. Waterson calls, ‘the bril- 
liant sensation of being a Belle and getting married 
within three months from coming out ? ' ” 

“If it’s so very delightful to be a belle, I don’t 
think I should like to give it up quite so soon, unless 
you got tired of me, and wanted me out of the way,” 
to which Mrs. Lenox replied by placing one hand in 
her daughter’s, and laying the other caressingly over 
her shoulder, “ and as to the ‘ waiting,’ there’s Henry, 
and George ” — 

“ But can’t you think of some one, whom you think 
quite as agreeable as your brother, and cousin, and 
j)erhaps,” added she, rather significantly, “ a little more 
so?” 

“Why, mamma, you know everybody said, last 
Commencement, that Henry Lenox and George Do 
Witt”— 

“Hever mind what they said, that’s nothing to the 
purpose.” 

“ Oh there’s Will Horton, and Gerald Davis, and 
Carlos Grey, and 'a great many others, who I dare say 
are fine fellows and charming company, for Miss Mor- 
ton, and Catharine Lawson, and Leora Horton, (Charles 
Yan Lear’s ‘bright particular,’) and the other afiian- 
cees, always seem a great deal better entertained than 
we are; and I heard Caroline Waterson, tell Sophia 
Mansfield, loud enough for Mr. Eussell and two or 
three others to hear, that ‘ all the lest leaux had gone 
abroad, and that if she couldn’t persuade her father to 
travel a year or two, she had serious thoughts of return 
ing to school, till they came back.’ ” 

“ What, when surrounded by what her mother calls 


BISING YOUNG MEN. 


37 


such ‘ matches^ as the demi-millionnaire, Mr. Russell, 
‘ the embryo statesman,’ and Sinclair, ‘ the very rising 
young Lawyer \ ’ ” 

‘‘ And ‘ Alphabet Grant,’ with his fiery pate and 
cool hundred thousand— he’d never expect to be over 
looked, mamma ! ” 

“ And pray, who may he be ? ” 

‘‘ Oh the Hon. Senator’s son and heir, and no less a 
personage, than George Washington, John Adams, 
Thomas Jefferson, Andrew Jackson Grant I ” 

A very good match in the way of names^ for one 
Frances Wilhelmine He Witt Lenox,” returned mamma 
with a slight tone of reproof in her voice. 

Oh, but I have only your name, and my Aunt’s ; 
and besides, ‘Four Presidents,’ as Caroline calls him, 
goes about flourishing his sanguinary locks, and looking 
so perfectly irresistible ; as if he expected to set all our 
hearts on a blaze in one general conflagration, that I 
don’t doubt she said it, for fear he, or Augusta Henley’s 
‘ Parish Register,’ might propose. And you know how 
obstinately bent her mother is on match-making — I do 
believe she is haunted with the ghost of an old maid 
every night, and don’t see how Caroline came to have 
such a silly mother ! ” 

“Because her father married Mrs. Waterson my 
dear — but you mean, you don’t see how she, came to 
have such a daughter, as Caroline. And that’s just as 
easily answered; for where all the talent, is on the 
male side of the house, it generally descends in the 
female line. But who is the ‘ Parish Register,’ don’t 
you know it is vulgar to be using so many nicknames ? ” 
“ Yes mamma, but that is what Lucy and Augusta, 


38 


RISING YOUNG MEN-. 


who is just as bad, call your ‘ embryo statesman,’ Mr. 
Russell, because he is always talking about people’s 
ages^ and making insinuations about Fassees or Old 
Maids^ as he calls ladies like Miss Juliet Winslow, and 
Antoinette Grey ; who I am sure, are handsom^’ now 
than any of us, if they are, ‘ eight-and-tweiity if they’re 
a day,’ as he says — but he got his pay once.” 

“ How was that ? ” 

“ He had witnessed some accident to dear old Miss 
Warren, and not dreaming that she was Augusta Hen- 
ley’s Aunt, was trying to show off, by relating it in a 
way to make her appear ridiculous ; so she let him run 
on till he had fully committed himself, and then told 
him who she was, why she had chosen to live single, 
and what a mother she had been to her younger sisters, 
and their motherless children j and finally wound up 
by saying, ‘ it wasn’t remarkable he had no respect for 
ladies of her class, as his family, was probably so very 
young^ that there was no old thing about it.’ ” 

Severe, but well merited— but how did she know 
where to give him such a home thrust? ” 

“ She says her father took some little pains, when 
in Washington last winter, to ascertain the origin of 
this ‘ self-made man,’ and couldn’t find that he had any 
— the most definite information being, that he was 
‘ from Charleston.’ ” 

'‘‘From Charleston and Savannah, and as many other 
cities as you choose, Frances, but of neither, if we ex- 
cept BaUimore ; your father has been more successful 
in his researches.” 

“ W hy, what did papa or Mr. Henlev either, care 
for him ? ” 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


39 


“ !N*otliing, for him, personally, but as a rather im- 
portant office holder, he was a legitimate subject of in- 
vestigation ; and it concerns every man, to know who, 
and what, the associates of his children are, especially 
if they are of recent standing, and tolerably specious in 
appearance.” 

“ And what is he ? ” 

“ Quite a cosmopolite — a mere chevalier of the Or- 
der of Industry, that is a person of no particular profes- 
sion who lives by his wits ; and he, it seems, has enough 
to have secured him the good offices, of some dispenser 
of Executive Patronage, and the favorable notice of the 
Hon. Mr. Grant and his interesting son, under whose 
auspices he is now securely making his way into circles 
to which his birth and early life made him a stranger.” 

“ Who w^as his father ? ” 

“That is a question easier asked than answered. 
His mother kept a Boarding House in some secondary 
street of the Monumental City, much frequented by 
‘ shabby genteel,’ ^ out at elbows,’ sort of gentry. Horse 
Jockeys, and Blacklegs of the worst description ; and 
together with many of her Boarders, was swept off by 
the cholera, about the time her ^ Kising ’ son, came to 
man’s estate. From the date of that event, he is sup- 
posed to be rather over thirty ; but as there seems to 
have been some little negligence, in preserving the 
register of his mother’s last marriage, and the date of 
his own birth, it isn’t very surprising that he should 
consider himself, as perhaps he really does, only ‘ five 
or six and twenty.’ ” 

“ May 1 tell Lucy and Caroline mamma ? ” 

“Ho, I am not court chronicle, or Biographer gen- 


40 


RISING YOtTNG MEN. 


eral, to the whole community. Caroline’s own intui- 
tion, will serve her, in lieu of more definite information ; 
and Lucy has a father, and mother too, of her own. 
But what says Miss Waterson, to Lucy’s ‘Demi-Mil- 
lionnaire ? ” 

Only that he is one of those mushrooms, eternally 
springing up in commercial communities like this ; and 
that if Mr. Bussell hasn’t any origin, he is that much 
better off than ISTed Tyler, for his^ is no credit to him.” 

‘‘True, but I hope Mrs. Waterson’s evident anxiety 
to get Caroline otf, before her other daughters come 
out ; will not make her sarcastic — ^it is unfortunate for 
a young lady to get the reputation, or the habit, of 
being satirical.” 

“ But Ned Tjder is such a fool ; and with his hands 
stuck in his pockets, and his little conceited, turned up 
nose and narrow forehead, goes strutting up and down, 
looking right and left as much as to say, don’t flatter 
yourselves ladies, I’m entirely too knowing to be taken 
in by any of you, ‘ small fry,’’ and at last, planting 
himself before some one of us — like a huge pair of 
compasses stuck in a block of deal — his head thrown 
back, and his thumbs hung in the armholes of his vest 
— Diogenes, himself, would have laughed outright, to 
see him taking up a position. And then the way he 
patronizes very young gentlemen, and ‘so-so-people,’ 
or ‘ poor young men,’ as he affects to consider all who 
are not worth at least fifty thousand ; and the air with 
which he looks round after dancing, as much as to say, 

‘ if you want any better dancing than that, good people, 
just do it yourselves, will you’ — oh it is most superbly 
ridiculous. But the beauty of it all is, he takes Jane 


EISING YOTTKa MEN. 


41 


V" an Lear, the great heiress, for a poor relation of Mrs. 
Walton, (who for aught he knows may have been a 
mere housemaid before her marriage,) and treats her 
with the most magnificent condescension. ‘ Eather in- 
teresting young iady, that niece of yours Mrs. Walton ’ 
— if she had only been her daughter now, I dare say 
she might have aspired to the honor of becoming Mrs.* 
Med Tyler. And he, the son of a Bankrupt — a clever 
bankrupt too. But do you suppose he would hesitate 
to ask any man for his daughter ? Mot he ! He would 
ask Queen Yictoria for hers, to-morrow, if he thought 
there was any chance of getting her.” 

“Frances, Frances, how your tongue does run; but 
all right so far — no danger in that quarter,” thought 
Mrs. Lenox. 

“ And even Mr. Sinclair ” — 

“ ‘ And even Mr. Sinclair ’ — what of him ? ” 

“ Mot much mamma, only I was thinking.” 

“ Well, what were you thinking? It seems a hard 
matter to get that arriere pensee^ to develop itself.” 

“Mot so very ; I was only thinking — do you sup- 
pose Lieutenant ^Marshall, treats all the ladies, to a sub- 
lime fit of the pouts, wherever he goes ; because Laura 
Morton isn’t present?” 

Good again, thought the mother, I haven’t lost my 
labor, if I have given you some criterion by which to 
estimate the feelings and conduct of a gentleman: “I 
rather think, love, that when a gentleman is truly at- 
tached to one lady, it will make him polite and defe- 
rential to others, instead of rude, sullen, or neglectful, 
almost to insolence ; but oh ho, my young lady ; I have 
caught you at last — ^you fancy Mr. Sinclair, in love 
with you, do you not ? ” 


4:2 


EI8ING YOUNG MEN. 


“I don’t know mamma, everybody is continually 
telling me so, and saying wliat ‘ marked attention ’ lie 
pays me ; and I am sure lie does devote bimself most 
exclusively to me, wherever I go.” 

“ And you find the attention very agreeable do you 
not?” 

‘‘ Sometimes, and then again I think it in bad taste, 
for him to make me so conspicuous, and have everybody 
speculating on the result ; and repeating, like so many 
parrots, ‘ Miss Lenox and Mr. Sinclair,’ ‘ Mr. Sinclair 
and Miss Lenox,’ as if they couldn’t call one name, 
without the other. I believe I’ll call him ‘ Miss-Lenox- 
Mr.-Sinclair,’ myself, hereafter.” 

“ISTo, no child — that would never do,” said Mrs. 
Lenox laughing. 

“But mamma, don’t you think it’s rather presum- 
ing, or— or— somewhat indelicate, for a man to be 
always parading his jireferences on all occasions ? ” 

Mamma did think so, but she replied, You would 
not wish him to feel ashamed of them, would you? 
And he may not be aware how obvious, he is makino* 
them.” 

“How can he help knowing, when every one is 
quizzing me about him, and nodding and smiling so 
significantly ; and old Mrs. Grant croaking to her sis- 
ter, ‘Well do but think ot the luch of some people 

now here’s my Susan^ has been out a whole year; ’ roll- 
ing up her green-gooseberry eyes all the while, as if the 
thing were prfectly unaccountable, and she, the ugliest 
girl in Hew'York.” ^ 

^ “Hush Frances hush! But perhaps Mr. Sinclair 
thinks the eclat is not disagreeable to you j or more 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


43 


likely, lie thinks nothing at all about it. Few men, 
feel the same delicacy on these subjects, that ladies 
have, or should have, or stop to consider our feelings, 
when intent upon the gratification of their own.” 

“ Then 1 should think they loved themselves all. and 
me none ; and that it was only pure selfishness after 
all.” 

ISTot very wide of the mark, thought Mrs. Lenox, 
but she went on, “Aside from these little contTetemjps 
however, you like him very well do you not? ” 

“ He is very pleasant mamma, and so superior to 
the other cavaliers en attendant^ and everybody says, 
he is ‘ so talented,’ and ‘ such a rising young man,’ and 
‘ will soon be at the head of his Profession ; ’ and then 
he is very good looking, and so entertaining, I did like 
his company very much, until it became quite a matter 
of course,” (overshot your mark, my good sir,) “ and 
the attention so marked, that I began to feel awkward, 
and suspect that it meant something more than the en- 
joyment of the passing hour ; and besides I am getting 
tired of hearing him called ‘ so promising,’ and all the 
talk about ‘ that brilliant afiTair of his ; ’ as if there never 
had been a good speech before, since the days of De- 
mosthenes. I wish I could get hold of it ; I don’t be- 
lieve it’s any such great world’s wonder after all ! ” 

“All right,” thought the mother, “ ‘ heart whole,’ 
and now be it mine to keep it so ; ” so with true femi« 
nine tact she proceeded, “ One does get tired, of hear- 
ing Aristides, called, ‘ the just,’ it is true, but that will 
not last forever ; and don’t you think on the whole, that 
when belleship gets a little stale, you would like him, 
us well as anybody, for a husband ? 


44 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


“Why onother said Frances, her great hazel 
eyes filling with tears, as she crept almost into her 
arms ; “ how strange yon talk ! I thought you prom- 
ised not to treat me, as Caroline Waterson’s mother, 
does her ! ” 

“JSTor will I my child. All I want, is to promote 
your own happiness, in whatever way it can best be 
secured. You shall never marry at all, while I live, 
unless you choose. So tell me just wdiat you think, 
without any reserve, like my own dear daughter. 
What is there wanting in Mr. Sinclair, that you w^ould 
like in the man you do marry ; for to that ultimatum 
you will, in all probability, come at last, though I hope 
not very soon.” 

“ Oh, I am so glad of that, mamma, for you know 
Pm only just sixteen, and haven’t been from school two 
months yet ; and don’t want to be shut right up again, 
without being a young lady, scarce any at all.” 

“ I suppose not, but am half inclined to think you 
might as well have remained so, a little longer. To be 
sure, you had gone the usual round of studies, but it is 
just possible you might have gone into them a little 
deeper, and reviewed your French and Italian to ad> 
vantage.” 

“Why Monsieur Beaumair, said they would be 
esteemed perfect, at Paris, or FTaples.” 

“ Yes, but we are not in either, if we were, his 
faiV might be iom\di jparf ait patoisP 

“ But why should he wish to deceive us ? ” 

“ He might not, but his language should be taken 
with much allowance, for the language of compliment, 
is to a Frenchman, so much the language of nature, 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


45 


tliat I question, if his first intonation does not mean, 
‘Madame I thank you for having given me the entree 
ot such charming society.’ But let that pass, you are 
out, and the question is now, how to fit you for the 
greatest possible amount of present and future happi- 
ness to yourself, and usefulness to others. Much of 
hotli, depend mainly on the choice of a lifetime com- 
panion, or the calm, deliberate conviction^ that witliout 
such and such concomitants, matrimony might, for you, 
be better dispensed with altogether. So it will not be 
amiss, to settle in your own mind, wdiat you can, and 
cannot disjiense with, or some general principles, by 
which your future conduct is to be regulated. Years 
and experience, will of course bring modifications of 
taste, respecting styles of person, manner and character, 
but there are other things often, on wliich the miseiy 
or happiness of a lifetime depends — things perhaps, so 
perfectly intangible, or inexplicable in themselves, that 
no third party, however well disposed or judicious, 
could possibly conceive, or fully estimate their impor- 
tance to you. And they have much to answer for, who " 
exercise, ‘ the tyranny of strong aflfection,’ to force mis- 
ery on another, because it would make their happiness. - 
Such a responsibility I can never assume, but suppose 
now, that for the better understanding of yourself^ we 
take it for granted, that you are disposed to marry, and 
that Mr. Sinclair, is the subject under consideration. 
The analysis can do him no harm, as it is strictly confi- 
dential, and not likely to afiPect the result of his present 
intentions. Is there any thing save the trifiing annoy- 
ances mentioned, to wiiich you wmiild seriously ob- 
ject?” 


3 


46 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


“Not much, that I know, mamma, except his being 
BO ill-tempered yesterday, for so slight a cause.'' 

“ A small compound of pique and disappointment, 
with a large share of affectation, I presume. He knew 
you would be certain to hear, how much he took your 
absence to heart. Any thing more ? ’’ 

“ He isn’t rich, but that doesn’t signify, for he has 
a very respectable practice already, which is said to be 
‘rapidly increasing,’ so if it only lasts ^ he will do very 
well ; for papa could give me a house, or you let me 
live here, till Henry got old enough to marry.” 

“ Certainly my dear, if necessary. If not decidedly 
so, I think it as decidedly expedient for young people 
to go to housekeeping at once, that is before they have 
more than themselves, and their housekeeping to look 
after ; otherwise they might feel crushed, under its mole- 
hill mountains of unaccustomed care, but is that all % ” 
“I don’t think of any thing else just now, why I 
might not like liim as well as anybody else, or any- 
body else equally agreeable, as well as him, only,” and 
here the young lady came to a dead pause. 

“ Another only — well what is behind it? ” 

“Not very much, only that I don’t hnow any thing 
about his family and connections ; but suppose they 
must be a great deal better than Mr. Eussell’s, or Ned 
Tyler’s.” 

“ Much — they reside in the interior, and are ‘ good 
as anybody,’ in their immediate vicinity — that is, local 
gentry^ without the claim, or (what is more remarkable) 
the pretext, of belonging to what ma}", by way of gra- 
dation, be termed, the Old Nobility of the State. Still 
they are the next best thing to it — plain, upright, sub- 


KISING YOUNG MEN. 


47 


stantial fanners— wliat Politicians call, ^ Ow^ honest 
yeomanry, the lone and sinews of the country ; ’ and 
t iat IS better, beyond all comparison, than the gam- 
bling, swindling, blustering, peddling, miserly orio-iu of 
one half our ‘ Pising ’ families ; who on the strength of 
their real, or pretended wealth, are everywhere elbow- 
ing J;heir betters, and insinuating themselves among 
the Hite of the country. And I would inhnitely prefer 
giving a daughter of mine to the scion of such a stock 
of stalwart stamina, than to son of any such purse- 
proud, parvenu aristocrats (Heaven save the mark) 
who are eternally perpetrating the most ridiculous an- 
tics, by way of establishing their claims to the haut 
ton^ 

‘‘Yes mamma, but I don’t see why I should marry 
into this new-fangled gentry, that haven’t learned how 
to behave themselves, yet, or into the yeomanry either ; 
and then have to insult, and quarrel with my husband, 
till he would cut his own relations, (for which I should, 
of course, despise him all the more,) or live in mortal 
feai that every stage, or market w’^agon, lumbering 
through the street, was about to deposit, at my door, a 
whole bevy of country cousins, and their relations, and 
their wives’ relations, and their relations’ relations’ re- 
lations ! And if I happened to have any particularly 
agreeable company, or engagements on hand, tremble 
all the while, like an aspen leaf, lest at every ring of 
the door bell, a whole regiment of big-footed, heavy- 
handed, stentorian mountaineers should make an un- 
provoked ‘ raid ’ into my drawing rooms.” 

“ Stop Frances, stop ! If you should happen to be 
overheard, and any of the Keporters, or Penny-a-liners, 


48 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


get hold of that speech of yours, it would be a perfect 
godsend to them. You would he shown up in every 
nebdominal, and Monthly in the land, and in every 
conceivable manner and form, as the veiy incarnation 
of cockney arrogance and inhospitality. And don t 
you know, child, what condign punishment, always 
awaits the offending fair? How her husband, if she is 
married, is sure to break and send her to live in de- 
pendence on these very relations ; and how, if she is 
not, that some one of these undervalued cousins, is sure 
to carry off her special favorite, and another to marry 
her best beloved, and more liberal minded brother, 
while she has to drag out a long, weary, hopeless spin- 
sterhood, superintending his nursery, and darning the 
family hose ? Eeally child, I am quite shocked at your 
temerity.”- 

“Yes, mamma, I dare say, and believe I have 7'‘ead 
of some such ‘poetical justice,’ but it isn’t lifelike 
enough to be imposing, even while one is reading ; 
whereas. Miss Leslie’s Poor Kelations — but that isn’t 
fiction, it’s every day fact ; she doesn’t deserve a par- 
ticle of credit for invention. She ought though, to 
write a sequel, making the cubs of tormentors, come in 
on the other side of the house, and the poor woman, as 
in duty bound, put on a most hypocritical face, and 
pretend to be perfectly delighted with her martyrdom, 
for fear of hurting her husband’s feelings, by expressing 
her own. I suppose, mamma, these inkhorn champions 
of dowdies and greenhorns, must be all male scrib- 
blers ? ” 

“ You are right enough about the proteges^ for coun- 
try Ladies and Gentlemen^ don’t mistake the houses of 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


49 


meie nominal acquaintance, or relations who never saw 
01 leai ot them, for hotels ; any more than true city 
ones, expect their friends to entertain them, in the 
country, and themselves, in town ; or consider a morn- 
ing call, ride, drive, or invitation to tea, (when they 
chance to put up at a sufficiently fashionable hotel,) 
ample equivalent, for days and weeks of hospitality: 
but jvhy do you think the ' champions,’ all men f ” 

‘ Oh, because the ladies are always in fault, their 
husbands, lathers and brothers, all such ‘clever fel- 
lows,’ the country girls, invariably so much more pure- 
minded, warm-hearted, intellectual, better educated, 
quite as refined, and a great deal more beautiful than 
we citizens ; and then, they are so naive and interest- 
ing, while we are vain, idle, extravagant, aflfected, mer- 
cenary, and callous, as if ‘ the spirit of the paving stones 
had passed into our hearts ’—do you think there is any 
truth to nature, in such representations ? Are gentle- 
men really so absurd as to suppose a brick wall and a 
wooden one, make such a difference? ” 

“ Doubtless it is broad caricature, but there may be 
some little foundation for the superstructure. A new 
face, always goes a great way with a man, and the ru- 
rals have the advantage of a su^pjposed want of savoir 
faire, which whether real, or not, gives the gentleman 
such a comfoi table sense of superiority, upon such a 
very small capital, as makes him very complacent to- 
w^ards those, whose inferential ignorance and helpless- 
ness, are a tacit admission of his own supremacy j but 
we have wandered from the subject.” 

“Well, there is one thing I don’t understand, and 
that is, how such elegant, and accomplished gentlemen 
3 


60 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


as Mr. E/Ossie for instance, should have such a set of 
relations, as are the torment of his poor wife’s life.” 

“ Because you don’t understand, dear, how these 
things are managed among farmers, country merchants, 
and mechanics of the first grade. It is only the pet, 
the genius, or the valetudinarian of the family, that is 
ordinarily selected to receive a liberal education, and 
its collateral advantages, at the expense of all the rest, 
the daughters especially. And this is why, ‘ the schol- 
ar,’ becomes at once the pride, and envy of all, and 
what makes them so jealous of insult, and so hard to 
propitiate. ^Managed,’ here at the ITorth, I should 
have said — Southern fathers, in a spirit of more manli- 
ness, seem more inclined to help those, who are least 
able to help themselves.” 

“ ‘Hard,’ indeed, you may well say, for if all Mrs. 
Kossie’s children had the small-pox, and none of them 
had ever had it, she would no more dare send one of 
his brothers, or sisters word, that she couldn’t receive 
them, than to start off on a continental tour, without 
his permission.” 

“ ‘A little too much red in the brush,’ Trances, your 
demi-teintes make a softer picture ; though her situation 
is, an exceedingly delicate one. Still, I am inclined to 
think, that if she did not yield quite so much, she would 
be more at ease, herself, and come quite as near giving 
satisfaction to others.” 

“■Well I know I would rather be forty old maids 
rolled into one, than in her position. I comprehend 
now what old Mrs. Yan Cortlandt meant, when she 
said, ‘ A woman, if she truly consults her own happi- 
ness, will never marry much out of her own sphere. If 


RISINa YOUNG MEN. 


51 


slie gets above it, she will feel grieved, or mortified, 
that her friends cannot share her advancement ; if she 
falls below, she is wedded to a lifetime repentance. A 
man may elevate his wife to his own rank, a woman 
should never descend below her natural station.’ Pll 
remember it all, as long as I live.” 

These old-fashioned, somewhat anti-republican,* 
and very unpopular ‘ prejudices , as they are called, are 
fast becoming obsolete, my dear, though I haven’t so 
entirely outgrown mine, as to see no sound sense in 
such maxims ; still I would have you remember, that 
it is the man that makes the rank, as in Mr. Eossie’s 
case, not the rank that makes the man.” 

‘‘I will, mamma, and I’ll remember too, to keep 
out of any such labyrinth of vexation. It must be a 
very extraordinary man indeed, that will coax me into 
any such mesalliance ; and I don’t see either, why all 
these prodigies should be found in the mediocre grades, 
nor why it isn’t just as reasonable, to look for talent 
and worth, among the sons of talented and honorable 
men, that don’t think it necessary to help their chil- 
dren make jackanapes and fools of themselves, as else- 
where.” 

“ Mor I either, my dear, but community seems in 
one universal scramble, reminding one of the scene in 
the Spectator, where everybody was laying down his 
own grievance, to take up that of his neighbor ; and 
you know, that in most kinds of ferments, the scum is 
pretty apt to rise to tlie surface.” 

“ Yes mamma, and do you know I have seen that 
old tale, published lately, as something new ? ” 

“That is nothing — I have within the last twenty 


52 


KISING YOUNG MEN. 


years, seen scraps of fugitive poetry published half a 
dozen different times as ‘ original,’ by as many different 
authors, and ne’er the true one; and hundreds of tales 
and anecdotes are continually revamped so as to efface 
the symmetry, "without destroying the identity ; but in- 
stead of complaining, we might with propriety say, ‘ The 
part you stole, I like the best, go on my friend and steal 
the rest.’ ” 

‘‘But is not that very mean ? ” 

“ I should hardly expect the perpetrator, to restore 
my purse, or pocket handkerchief, if he picked it up 
where no one saw him ; but I was going to remark, 
that if a gentleman have inherited wealth or position, 
or acquired it by talent, or industry, it seems to be re- 
garded as the legitimate prey of every needy adventu- 
rer, ephemeral aspirant, or idle, conceited fopling, who 
will condescend to ‘ take the estate with the live stock 
on it, as it stands.’ A woman, being in their estima- 
tion, ‘ an animal made for plucking,’ or at best only an 
escalier to promotion ; and never enough to be spurned 
and contemned, when the height is won.' But how 
men, with their idolatrous, slaveworship of gold, and 
knowing, how they look down on the female, in any 
rank, who lacks, or loses and has it to make, in any vo- 
cation whatever, can expect one who bestows it, to looh 
up to her humble, or insolent pensioner of a husband, 
as the case may be, is more than I can divine ; for God 
never yet made a woman, that could see her fortune 
squandered on tastes and pursuits not hers, some of 
them perhaps immoral in themselves, and in open, or 
secret violation of her well-known wishes, withouty^e^- 
ing^ if she did not say, ‘ You have no eight, it is mine. 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


53 


sir^ and you, sir, are a faithful, or faithless steward, ac- 
cording as you husband it for, and enjoy it with, or 
alienate it from me.’ And how a man, with man’s love 
of domination, and consciousness that God and hTature 
intended him for the manly head, supporter and pro- 
tector of his wife, can aspire to throw himself on her 
bounty, become her inferior and dependent, or flatter 
himself that he is, any the less her mere agent, super- 
cargo, or beneficiary, because the Law makes him her 
high-handed robber, is more than I can pretend to ex- 
plain. But marrying one of their own equals, those 
best fitted by congenial tastes and early habits, to sec- 
ond their efibrts and rise with them to wealth and dis- 
tinction, which they are quite as well fitted as them- 
selves to grace, i& about the very last thing young men 
of the present age seem to think of ; and I shouldn’t 
advise anybody at all liable to be called out, to make 
such a suggestion, it might be thought a deadly insult. 
In fact most of them seem to think it would be doing 
themselves and their own '‘juste jyretensiones^ a crying 
injustice, not to match wfith rank, or at least wealth, at 
least three times superior to their own. And unfortu- 
nately the world has, as Lucy says, taken Miss in her 
cradle, and shown her the Old Maid persecution, so 
clearly in advance, that she knows she must get mar- 
ried^ to escape it, at any cost ; and is only too ready, 
j)Oor thing, to put toleration^ in the place of respect and 
afiection ; vainly hoping to find in one, who, as she is 
well aware, wmuld never have taken her, had she too, 
been penniless like him, at least a skilful pilot and in- 
dulgent partner, if not a loving and genial companion 
for the voyage of life. Mistaken creature — as if thp 


54 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


proper order of nature could be reversed witli impunity^ 
and a spirit of the least manliness fail to chafe under 
the consciousness of owing so much, to a wife, till the 
fact that he did owe it, seemed rather a grievance to be 
resented, than a matter of gratitude ; — or as if a spirit 
of the weaker and baser sort, would not struggle to 
escape such a consciousness, by quickly changing the 
deferential, obsequious suitor, into the thankless, tyran- 
nical master, as if sKe^ w*ere the humble Griselda, raised 
from want to affluence, by his appreciative taste, and 
princely magnanimity. I would not invoke for you, 
or any one, the sublimity of a grand passion, in all its 
terrible depth, and strength — it is only the highly gifted, 
and high-hearted, not they who fret out a peevish exist- 
ence, nor even all of those who lie down and die of a 
broken heart when disappointed, that are capable of 
this ; and they only know at what a cost, they ‘ make 
them gods, to find them clay,’ or wake to the madden- 
ing beauty of that unwritten life-poetry, wdiich breathes 
oftenest, if not always of the tragic muse. But life’s 
voyage is not all sunshine, even to the happiest, nor is 
marriage a mere living Tableau got up to .embellish a 
festal scene ; and oh, my child, it is a fearful thing, to 
stand up at God’s holy altar, and vow to love and honor, 
with no better security, that you are not making your 
right hand, ‘ a right hand of falsehood,’ than the vague 
hojye^ that he you so solemnly take ‘ for better for worse, 
till death do you part,’ will develop such characteris- 
tics, as you can love and honor, aye, and obey too, if 
need be, without loss of your own self-respect, or a 
gradual lowering of your wdiole moral character: Per- 
haps, with the undefined, but better-grounded suspicion, 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


55 


that you are henceforth to walk through life with a fet- 
tered tread, and averted eye — together, yet apart — lest 
the more you learn of him, the more you shall learn to 
loathe and contemn. 

“ Christian Lawgivers, in Christian lands — or lands 
and lawgivers calling themselves Christian — are to be 
sure, doing what they can, to smooth the path to per- 
jury, for the young and thoughtless, by treating the 
first Ordinance God gave to man, as a mere business 
compact, to be as lightly broken, as it is injudiciously 
contracted ; but ^God is not mocked. Marriage, is Sis 
Ordinance, whether solemnized by His ministers, or 
desecrated by those of the civil Law. And ‘ desecrat- 
ed,’ I feel that it is, whenever human Law presumes — 
without warrant of absolute necessity — to do more, than 
merely recognize and maintain its validity ; for it is 
practically calling that ‘ cominon^ which he has declared 
holy. Strange, that rulers and people cannot see how 
they are pandering to their own degeneracy, when they 
venture to override, or set aside their Maker’s injunc- 
tions, or do aught to lower human reverence for any 
thing that should be sacred ; for soon, or late, the out- 
raged sanctity will avenge itself. And if an unbridled 
License.^ under the specious name of Liberty, will per- 
sist in having the pale of Matrimony to be rushed into, 
and out of, ‘ as the horse rusheth into battle,’ what mar- 
vel, if wives, should become selfisli and soulless, moth- 
ers heartless, children neglected, rapacious and insolent, 
husbands faithless, youth idle, profligate and mercenary, 
manhood, at once reckless and avaricious, old age, un- 
honored, and the whole community, not gaily and 
gracefully, but intensely, madly frivolous; all vainly 


56 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


trying to escape tlie shadow of Distrust^ that broods 
like the household Skeleton, over every hearthstone ? 
And what, think you, can be her chance for happiness, 
who has no ‘ world within,’ to which to tuni, in un- 
doubting trust and tried affection, when the world 
without seems all, one vast living lie — who- must, her- 
self, welcome any ally, that can help keep her own 
thoughts at bay, or lay, for the time, the haunting, 
nameless fear, that behind the light lattice of her hus- 
band’s character, is no ‘ Broad stone of honor,’ but ‘ such 
accurst familiars,’ as must, if seen, make her high, pure, 
womanly instincts involuntarily exclaim, ‘ Oh my soul, 
come not thou into theiT secrets, unto their assembly, 
mine honor he not thou united ! ’ 

“ I have said that I would not desire for you, the 
tragic poetry of passion, which glorifies and desolates, 
as did the Lightning flash, the Lightning-stricken Oak 
of Jupiter, leaving it, holy, majestic, and oh, how sad ; 
but all that is best and dearest, firmest and truest, in 
the gentler, domestic affections, or, (if you please) love, 
I would have you feel, for the man you wed. Feel, 
when you place your hand in his, that you can trust it 
implicitly to his guidance, that you take him, not for a 
holiday trip, or ‘ a year and a day,’ but to walk with 
you through time, and into eternity — That you need 
not ignore, but may, and should, study his character, as 
you would have him do your own ; not to take advan- 
tage of its weak points, but shield them, and bear j^a- 
tiently with such human imperfections as will remain. 
I mean, my dear, not a love, all sentiment and no rea- 
son, which exhausts itself in rhapsodies and eitatics, 
and pales, flickers, and expires in life’s dark places, 


EISING YOUNG MEN. 


57 


but a rational one, which gathers new strength, and 
burns, and shines on, brighter and clearer to the last, 
‘ as shines a good deed in a naughty world.’ Such an 
one, as will not only bless your own heart and home, 
but scatter blessings round, ‘ like sunshine in your path,’ 
making the world all the better for your having lived 
in it, all the richer, for the unostentatious charity of 
your sunny brow, gentle tones, and loving deeds — all 
the happier, for the memory of your bright example, 
pure principles, and noble thoughts, left stirring up, 
and echoing back, through the hearts and lives of oth- 
ers — ‘happier,’ most of all, less for the trifling good 
seen and done, than the far greater, incipient evil, you 
have foreseen, and kept undone.” 

“ Just like you, and Papa do.” 

“Just as we, and all truly conscientious and intelli- 
gent people try to do, Frances ; for next to that, which 
maketh ‘ rich in the perfect love of God,’ I am inclined 
to think there is no Antidote to latent selfishness, and 
cold indifference to the rights and wants of others — no 
generator of genuine human sympathy, witliout the too 
common, and disgusting cant, of '‘saintliness^ and 
mere almsgiving charity, at all equal to a calm, strong, 
well-placed, human love. But no man, or woman, can 
love worthily, what they do not respect fully ; and re- 
sj)ect^ is a superstructure, for which there is no ‘Ehren- 
breitsen,* but perfect Truth. I do not mean that nega- 
tive Truth, which is only not a spoken lie, though it is 
often an acted one, and thinks a violated trust, a faith- 
less, or illusive promise, more or less base, in exact 


* “ Broad stone of honor.” 


58 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


proportion to another’s ability, or inclination to exact 
redress. I do mean, that clear moral sense and high- 
toned manliness, that keeps man true to his Maker, true 
to his fellow-creatures, and true to himself — that ‘ in- 
born chivalry ’ that would scorn to respect manhood’s 
strength more than woman’s weakness — that respects 
itself too much, to tamper with its own integrity, and 
have one code of what is honest and honorable, for the 
weak, and another, for the strong. Such a Truths as 
allows no man to lend the weight of his intellect, or so- 
cial position, to keep a vile sensualist in countenance, 
and help a specious, selfish, unprincipled spendthrift — 
against whom he would feel hound to warn his hatter, 
his tailor, his merchant, or banker — to palm himself oif, 
on a high-minded woman, and rob her of her peace of 
mind and piece of fortune ; not that he expects to share 
her plunder, but for no better reason that I can perceive 
than mere esprit du corps^ or because he is a man, and 
she a woman ; — such a Truth I say, is not the Truth for 
me, it is not Truth, it is not honor, nor common honesty 
even. It is^ most flagitious knavery, and mean, 

falsehood ; but it is, I grieve to say, just such 
truth, as is everywhere developed by hundreds and 
thousands, who pass very current, as ‘ all, all honorable 
men,’ though if weighed in the balance of impartial jus- 
tice, they would be surely found wanting, 

“ I am not pointing these remarks specially at Mr. 
Sinclair, my dear, indeed I had quite forgotten him, 
during the latter,* and with the exception of one, or 

♦ Possibly in remembering too well, the high legal functionary, who 
thus magnanimously abetted the matrimonial swindle of the late Mrs. 
Emma Willard. 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


50 


two tilings, in which perhaps, I am hypercritical, 
though I think not, certainly think very favorably of 
him. All the more so, that he neither parades nor con- 
ceals what moral principles he has ; but am sorry that 
they lack that delicacy, or nice truth which should pre- 
rent his ^ mahing love’ — that is the exact phrase — 
chiefly from motives of expediency — for my child, he no 
more loves you personally, or specially, than you do 
him.” 

“ I am glad of it,” said the young girl, not quite so 
callous,” as to think complacently of inflicting pain in 
return for afi*ection ; but the next idea was, How can 
he dare to trifle with me, mamma ? ” 

“ Because he unconsciously, perhaps, trifles with 
himself ; but I presume he has no wish to do so, and is 
really anxious to marry you.” 

‘‘ But I am no such great heiress — you don’t think 
he wants me, only for money ? ” 

“ Hot primarily, or exclusively, but your prospec- 
tive inheritance, is wealth, to one of his early ideas and 
habits, and if you lacked it, I suspect that even Judge 
Lenox’s daughter, would have found her admirer far 
less prompt and assiduous in his attentions. Still it 
would be unjust to suppose him wholly insensible to 
his great good fortune in finding such a convergence of 
agreeable attributes.” 

“ Oh, I understand you now. You think if I were 
merely a rich ‘ pleb,’ or ‘ nobody,’ or ‘ a penniless lass 
wi’ a long pedigree,’ much less a pretty girl without 
either, I might cry my pretty eyes out, for all him ! 
But you don’t really think mamma, that a lady should 
never marry a man, who can’t count dollar for dollar, 
with her, do you ? ” 


CO 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


“Bj no means, child, for such a principh 'would 
keep separate hundreds and thousands, "who mij ht oth- 
erwise be very useful and happy in the married rela- 
tion. But rich old men, who marry pretty, penniless, 
young wives, are proverbially jealous, and if a husband 
insists on having the whole of his wife’s fortune handed 
over to him, in fee simple, ‘ as the law directs,’ she may 
know herself ever so beautiful, and worthy to be loved, 
but the craving thirst of her woman’s nature, to feel 
herself beloved for her own sake, can never be grati- 
fied, for she can have, no assurance that she is, or ever 
was, beautiful, or lovely to him^ save for her golden at- 
tractions. She should be spared the misery of this life- 
long doubt, and if he really love her, for herself, and is 
'worthy to be so loved in return, he will, upon reflection, 
cut himself loose from an unmanly custom, engendered 
by cupidity and unbridled love of rule, and born of 
might not right — a custom ‘ more honored in the breach 
than the observance,’ — and think it no grievance, no 
slur upon his own ability, or integrity, if her friends re- 
member, that ‘ Time and chance hajpjpeneth unto all^ 
the wisest and best, as well as the basest and weakest, 
and desire to shield her — far as human foresight may — 
from that utter spoliation which might otherwise come, 
in the hour of reverse and human fluctuations. They 
know, that ^ there is not one woman in a thousand,’ as 
the old Scotch Judge once so coarsely but graphically 
said, ‘but what may be hissed^ or kicked out of her 
dower ; ’ and how necessary it is, to shield her against 
her own weakness, no less than other’s power. And 
he, should le^ not only willing, but anxious, to see at 
least, a liberal share of her fortune, secured beyond the 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


61 


possibility of her beggaring herself, and perhaps chil- 
dren, come what would. A husband can never be 
wholly crushed in heart, mind and means, unless under 
the agonizing consciousness, that he has involved his 
family too, in hopeless wretchedness — while they are 
safe, there is hope for him. It is all unmitigated 
‘ moonshine,’ this specious palaver, about creating ‘ sep- 
arate interests.^ It does not create them, it only leaves 
one hand free to pour in the oil and wine, when human 
vicissitude, or thieves and robbers, have done their 
work. A man’s best friend, in the hour of adversity, is 
his WIFE — if she is not, God help him ! And they who 
think, that under such, and such conditions, it would 
be often otherwise, take too little account, of woman’s 
instincts, and the primal declaration — ‘ her shall 

he to her hushand.^ Her fortune, it is true, would not 
in that case, be set up as a bribe for his corruption — > 
the gambler, the rumseller, the visionary schemer, the 
wily courtezan, the adroit swindler would be less eager 
to entraj) him in their toils ; well knowing it would not 
be to them, but the pale seamstress, the hard-handed 
laborer, the honest mechanic, that her purse-strings 
would relax, and thereby, morality would be so much 
the gainer. Law, cannot discriminate between credit- 
ors, but justice and humanity may, when the dollar, in 
the hands of the unhound wife, is ‘ a mere song ’ to one, 
and almost vital to the existence, of another. So at 
least thought Mrs. Marshall, and so think I. As to the 
‘ demoralizing tendency^ it would be apt to make Theo- 
rists and Solons, whose inner nerve of sensation lies too 
much in the purse, I fear, open their eyes, if not their 
intellects, and consciences, could they only go into the 


02 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


secrets of domestic life, in its high places, and by places, 
and see the ‘ heajps of chicanery,’ which honest folks 
are obliged to stoop to^ for want of some such provision ; 
for oh, it is soul sickening, the immense amount of ter- 
giversation, and ‘ walking round about the truth,’ which 
people naturally honest and veracious, are absolutely 
compelled to practise, for want of some legal, as well 
as moral, right to ‘ hold their own,’ perhaps their own 
hard earnings, till they can make them most available, 
to the very husbands, and creditors, who seek to wrest 
them, prematurely from them, to the great injury of 
one party, and very trivial, if not cpiestionable advan- 
tage of the other. I did not intend to read you such a 
Law Lecture Frances ; but ^ gold is the true Sibylline 
leaf, that increases in value as it diminishes in propor- 
tion,’ and human nature, is human nature, put it in 
what rank you will ; so if taking away the use and con- 
trol of her own means, be the best way to preserve a 
woman’s morals, in the higher grades, I should like to 
see the plan work a little better in the low.” 

“ So should I, mamma, but now you seem to look 
right into every thing so, and know everybody so 
well, do tell me, if you think Mr. Sinclair such a very, 
‘mry Eising Young Lawyer,’ and that ‘he will soon 
be at the head of his Profession ? ’ ” 

“It may be so Frances, but there is many a rising 
star that never culminates. And since my marriage 
with your father, I have heard the sanie prediction 
made respecting many a young man, who is no nearer 
the head of the Bar, now, than he was then. Mr. Sin- 
clair is certainly a man of talent, and may be one of 
the fortunate, and distinguished few; but it requires 


EISING YOUNG MEN. 


63 


energy, and ability of the very highest order, and it 
strikes me, that if he felt ‘ the full plenitude of the god 
within,’ he would be less eager to fortify his position, 
by alliance. If he possessed the sterling ore of genius, 
why should he not, rely, more proudly, on his own 
ability to scale the dizzy height of eminence, without 
grasping at the outstretched hand of any Father? ” 

“ And if he was high-minded as Charles Marshall, 
don’t you think he would wait till he reached it ; not 
be in such a hurry to propose, to such a mere child, 
when he must know, that the advantage of fortune and 
position is not on his side ? ” 

Until he had a pretty fair chance to reach it, 
Frances 5 but we have done with him now, only you 
must take care, that none of these reflections transpire, 
to the injury in the slightest degree, of the fortunes, or 
feelings, ot a highly respectable, and, by comparison at 
least, very gentlemanly young man.” 

“But how am I to help, ‘hurting his feelings?’ I 
can t pjjetend to misapprehend his meaning, much 
longer, and he will be certain to ‘ propose.’ ” 

“ He will be very certain to do no such thing. I 
will see to tliat myself. But it is understood is it not 
that your husband, is to be one of those intellectual 
giants, (springing from no matter where,) who can set 
his foot at will, on the topmost round of Fortune’s lad- 
der ; or, what is far more likely to be found, your equals 
a gentleman by the grace of God, and the effect of hon- 
orable association ; with such personal or physical en- 
dowments, as shall not exactly outrage, your own in- 
nate ideas of the Beautiful ? ” 

“And of fair talent mamma, you left that out.” 


64 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


“ I said your equals and you would not con- 
sider a simpleton, your equal, would you, be tbe acci- 
dent of birth and training what it might ? ” 

“ 'No mamma.” 

“ That is settled then — and if neither of these should 
be found within the next four or five years, you will 
perhaps modify your demands.” 

“ Not in the least — all or nothing for me.” 

“ Yery well then, at least for the present ; and now 
my love, let us go to dinner.” 


CHAPTEK II. 

A LETTER from Papa, look mamma look ! ” and 
the light-hearted speaker, half swam lialf danced across 
the room, and with true childish glee held the missal 
at arm’s length above her mother’s head, “f^nd it’s 
mine too, all mine, and that’s all he sent you,” suddenly 
changing her attitude, and imprinting a kiss on mam- 
ma’s upturned clieek. 

“ And when does he think he shall be home ? ” 

“ Oh not this long time yet ; but he says you must 
not wait for him ; and if you don’t wish to stay so long 
at the Springs, you can go to the Highlands, or Long 
Island, or anywhere you choose, so he can only run up 
and see you, before you go to Saratoga. Do go some- 
where mamma ; it’s so warm here, and everybody is 
gone except Mr. Sinclair, and as soon as Term-Time is 
over ” — 


KISINO YOUNG- MEN. 


6E 

“ Yon shall be ont of the way my dear. How would 
you like to go over to yom- aunt De Witt’s for a week 
or two, and return her daughter ? ” 

“ Oh that would be so charming, and then the 
beantitnl garden and flowers and trees, and snch de- 
lightful arbors and Lanes and gravel walks, and charm- 
ing Hides and Drives and Sails and Picnics as we shall 
have, all by ourselves and uncle George, and Papa can 
come too and see us almost every day. May I write 
to aunt, that we will be there to-morrow, or the dav 
after ? ” 

“ ‘ Bide a wee,’ I think there is another young lady 
of my acquaintance who bids fair to make a very re- 
spectable ^ romp ; ’ however I hope you may always 
retain as keen a relish for the beauties of nature ; but 
you did not notice the last part of my question — how 
would you like to come back her daughter? ” 

“ Her daughter ! I don’t understand.” 

Sit down and sober yourself, and I will explain. 
You know we shall proceed immediately to Saratoga 
on our return, and that is a jDlace, where young ladies 
frequently blaze out their bellehood so fast, that they 
fancy themselves suitable candidates for matrimony ; 
when the fact is, they are only tired children. It is a 
sad place too for inexperienced girls who have hearts to 
lose ; and if you wish to enjoy the pleasures peculiar to 
youth, before settling down into the sobered happiness 
of wedded life, you must keep not only your hand, but 
your ‘fancy free.’ I do not want to see the first fresh- 
ness of your feelings evaporated, or the joyous hilarity 
of girlhood prematurely destroyed. Hor would I will- 
ingly bring back my childlike, pure-minded daughter. 


66 


EISING YOUNG MEN. 


a silly flirt, or heartless coquette ; intoxicated with hom- 
age, ostensibly paid to her personal charms. It is the 
commonly received, but I think erroneous opinion, that 
a mother should conceal from her daughter as long as 
possible, her pretensions to beauty. But if she have it, 
she will soon or late become apprised of the fact : and 
it is the assurance of a thing long esteemed desirable 
but doubtful, not one of which we have all along been 
thoroughly aware, that renders us unduly elate. As 
Bulwer says, ‘ it is only your little men who are forever 
on tip-toe.’ You are beautiful my daughter — yes very 
beautiful ! A mother’s partiality may it is true, see 
attractions invisible to others; but it can hardly be 
more illusive than the amour jprojpre j and my own 
face, from my childhood to the present hour, has at 
times appeared hateful to me.” 

“ What you, mamma — did you ever think yourself '' 
ugly ? And is that the reason you so often darken the 
rooms and cover the mirrors ? ” 

“ One of the reasons, but you interriqjt me. I have 
said that you were beautiful, I now projjose to show 
you, that the ‘ omnipotence of Beauty,’ .is greatly over- 
rated, and give you a lesson that will temper your tri- 
umj^h, if in after years you should chance to meet some 
companion of your youth, who has been less successful 
than yourself in the great drama of existence. Fortu- 
nately for himself as well as his Parishioners, your 
uncle George is in very easy circumstances : but the 
phrase ‘ country clergyman,’ does not necessarily imply 
that fact ; nor would his influence be supposed half as 
potent as it is, by that class of aspirants, wdio it is to be 
teared, feel far more solicitous for advancement in this 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


67 


world, than the next. I therefore propose, in case you 
have no objection, and yonr Father concurs, (of which 
there is little doubt,) to leave Frances Lenox^ among 
the shrubbery of Elmwood, and take Wilhelmine Be 
Witt^ with me to the Springs. How would you like 
the metempsychosis ? ” 

“ Oh it would be so comical, to call Papa uncle 
Harry and you aunt Fanny, and see all their wry faces, 
and whether Hed Tyler thinks your niece as interesting 
as Mrs. Walton’s; and — but won’t they all kuow me, 
mamma ? ” 

“ I think not, you remember those beautiful mourn- 
ing goods, that you tried to persuade me would be so 
very suitable for your aunt— well a few of those, and 
some jet ornaments with your white dresses, will trans- 
^ form you into Miss He Witt with very little trouble, 
especially after — but I almost regret this sacrifice,” lay- 
ing her hand on her daughter’s head, “ but tliese long 
silken locks must be shorn somewhat of their glory, 
Frances ? ” 

“ They will soon grow out again mamma, and they 
are so long and heavy, I shall be glad to have some of 
them out of the way, and then I can have such pretty 
curls in my neck, and not be annoyed with combs and 
hairpins. Caroline and Jane will both be gone, no- 
body there will know me but Lucy, and ” — 

She and they must be taken into confidence, and 
will help to support the incog admirably. There now, 
go tell John I want the carriage, and when I am done 
writing, be ready to go out with me.” 

Asking her husband’s consent, was as she well 
knew, a mere matter of form ; for never had wife the 


C8 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


happiness of enjoying the more implicit confidence of 
a husband. A few hours brought the laconic reply, 
‘‘My dear wife — I am delighted with your decision, 
and wish you to make whatever arrangements yon 
think proper, respecting Frances. Your affectionate 
husband Henry Lenox.” 

The next morning saw Mother and Daughter on 
their way to Hew Jersey ; and about three weeks later 
Mr. Walton and Family vacated their apartments at 
the Springs, and Mrs. Lenox, escorted by a Baltimore 
friend of her husband’s, took possession. 

She was accompanied by a young lady of light, 
graceful form, arrayed in just such a judicious inter- 
mixture of sables, as the initiated understand to indicate 
the demise of a cousin ; and whatever might be said 
against this semblance of mourning, on point of prin- 
ciple, not the most ultra reformer, could have objected * 
to it, as a matter of taste. Selected with admirable 
tact, nothing could have been better cliosen, to bring 
out in full relief the transparent fairness of the wearer’s 
complexion, without giving the darker hue, sufficient 
preponderance, to excite gloomy, or painful sensations. 
If in her usual costume, Mrs. Lenox had said, and 
truly, that her daughter was beautiful, she was now 
more, she was exquisite. A full dark eye, shaded with 
the longest silken lashes, and surmounted by a forehead 
faultless in proportion— that most difficult of features, 
the pe7fect though neither aquiline nor Grecian, 
the cheek brightened, not with a staring vulgar red, 
but that delicate tint, (denoting acute sensibility) which 
deepens and pales with every passing emotion, and 
which a breath would almost seem to annihilate; a 


EISINa YOUNG MEN. 


69 


montli small and well cut, and tlie prettiest pearly teeth 
occasionally glancing out from their bed of roses— ^ 
hands and ears, that a Turk might envy, with feet 
made to match, and to crown the whole, a profusion of 
the deepest and glossiest chestnut ringlets, falling over 
a neck and shoulders of the purest alabaster,— if there 
is any weird spell in beauty, well might that fair girl 
have deemed the talisman her own. And when the 
metamorphosis was at first complete, and her mother 
led her up to a huge mirror on the eve of leaving Elm- 
wood, she was constrained to admit, that if Wilhelmine 
De Witt^ met a less fiattering reception in Society, than 
had hitherto been accorded to Frances Lenox, it could 
not be from any diminution of personal charms. She 
had never been suffered to stale her face on the public 
, walks, like too many of our young ladies ; and if Dr. 
Morton and Family were too perfectly to the 

De Witt connection, not to know that Mrs. Lenox’s sis- 
ter had no daughter, except a mere child, they were by 
far too well bred to proclaim the fact, and Lucy was in 
ecstasies, with the idea of mystifying the Beaux. 

A few Families like the Waltons, who had not 
thought it necessary to remain merely to prove that 
they could do so if they chose, had left, but there was 
still about the usual amount of Office-Hunting Papas, 
manoeuvering mammas, and managing daughters, frisky 
young widows, and sickly old maids {whimsical is the 
word we believe, for such cases made and provided,) 
Eligibles, Ineligibles, and Detrimentals ; or as the 
young Ladies classed tliem, in an inverse order. Desira- 
bles, Hon-desirables, and Detestables. There were sal- 
low old Bachelors with brown wigs in their dotage, and 


70 


EISINQ YOUNG MEN. 


rubicund young widowers, with or without large fami- 
lies in their ‘‘minority” — for the law calls “majority” 
years of discretion^'* and don’t the law know ? Then 
there were those pests of Mammas and encumbered 
Papas, the “ Unmarriageahles ” (Lucy’s “ mere boys ”), 
who are eternally beguiling thoughtless young girls 
into the folly of squandering in pleasure, the time that 
should be devoted to business ; but whom it would be 
dangerous to cast off, so long as there were uncles, cou- 
sins, elder brothers, and younger daughters to be taken 
into consideration. Over and above all these, there 
was the Foreign Corjps^ vdth fierce mustachios, and 
very martial whiskers, jabbering bad French, and 
worse English — that ingenious class of citizens (from 
everywhere, but ^/nowhere,) who do the French Counts, 
German Barons, Southern Planters, Polish Pefugees, 
English Officers, Mexican Nobles, and so on ad infini- 
tum. But whoever expects us to worry readers, and 
what is more, ourselves, by chronicling the aggregate 
mass of their sayings and doings, reckons without his 
host — we shall do no such thing, further than comports 
with our own good will and pleasure. A Watering 
Place is the legitimate Paradise of Parvenues ; it would 
be a hard case if they could not be allowed to “ strut 
their little hour,” without being “ written down ” for 
the laughing-stock of the whole community. 


0 


KISING YOUNG MEN. 


71 


CHAPTEE III. 

“ Qio^-found her, I say !” — we shall leave the reader 
to identify the speaker as best he may)— ‘‘ 6b^-foimd 
her! Would you believe it, Sinclair, that cursed, old 
aristocrat of the aristocrats, Mrs. Lenox, has left her 
dmighter^ and brought some country Parson’s Eus- 
tic — ‘poor as a church-mouse’ I’ll warrant— here, to 
make her fortune. Won’t be taken in, by her milk-and- 
water, countryfied face — demmed if I do ” ! 

Mr. Sinclair was petrified — no y he could not believe 
it, and straightway betook himself to the presence of 
Mrs. Lenox, to see if it was possible, she had had the 
audacity, to do the deed. 

“Ah good evening Mr. Sinclair, a familiar face 
looks very pleasant among strangers.” 

Mr. Sinclair bowed in acknowledgment. “ But is 
it possible, madam, that you have left Miss Lenox be- 
hind”? 

“Oh Frances was so perfectly delighted with the 
Country, and my sister secludes herself and daughter, 
so much from the gay world ; I thought it would be 
agreeable for Frances, and Wilhelraine both, to make 
the exchange.” 

“ But you don’t consider madam, that we are all 
dying for love of her,” put in another speaker, who had 
presented himself in time to hear her reply. 

“ Indeed, Mr. Eussell, I was not aware that your 


72 


ElSma YOUNG MEN. 


cases were so very desperate. If you think them past 
remedy, you ought to call a confessor immediately.” 

“ ‘ Taking the benefit of clergy ’ is what we should 
be very glad to do, madam ; but you have put it out of 
our power.” 

“ How could you be so cruel Mrs. Lenox ? ” 

‘Ht is doubtiess a very shocking affair, Mr. Russell ; 
but I hope, gentlemen, that you will both survive it ; 
and really Sir, I think you are unnecessarily alarmed — 
I don’t see but you look in pretty good condition.” Mr. 
Russell felt that his silly speech, had subjected him to 
more than an equal share of Mrs. Lenox’s ridicule, and 
was silent ; so she proceeded, “ By way of indemnity, 
permit me gentlemen, to offer what I consider a very 
fair equivalent. Wilhelmine ! ” The young lady who 
was conversing with some one at the opposite end of 
the sofa turned round. ‘‘ Mr. Sinclair, Mr. Russell, 
Miss De Witt — don’t you think there is a marked like- 
ness, between her and my daughter ? ” 

‘‘Some general family resemblance, perhaps,” re- 
turned Mr. Russell, who felt it incumbent on him to 
say something; “but rather to yourself than Miss 
Lenox, if I might be allowed to judge; but” — turning 
to the fair debutante, “you ought to consider yourself 

very highly complimented. Miss,” “ Miss De Witt, 

Sir ! ” “ Miss De Witt,” repeated the rebuked imper- 

tinent, “ very highly complimented, indeed ! Your 
cousin, is considered the prettiest girl in Hew York.” 

“And indeed Z think the resemblance sivildng^'^ 
hastily added Sinclair, by way of salvo for his compan- 
ion’s rudeness ; his clearer perception and more manly 
feeling, showing him at once, the unkindness and im- 


RISING- YOUNa MEN. 


73 


policy, of so palpably telling one pretty girl, and she, 
Mrs. Lenox’s niece, that she was far inferior to another, 
in point of beauty. “ But really, madam, it was very 
ungenerous in you, to deprive us of our anticipated 
triumph, when we have been boasting so much, to these 
Southrons, about our New Yorh Beauty.” 

“JSTonsense, Mr. Sinclair — my daughter is no more 
the beauty of New York, than your friend here is Pres- 
ident.” Here the latter was about to enter a disclaimer, 
but she went on. ‘‘ There is many a gem of purer wa- 
ter and finer lustre, than that on your finger Mr. Bus- 
sell ; in the mud from which it was extracted ; but it is 
only when properly set, that we have, an opportunity 
of admiring the brilliancy.” 

If not ‘ the Beauty,’ you will at least admit her to 
be, ‘ the Belle of New York ? ’ ” 

My daughter objects to the title, Mr. Sinclair, and 
I, as her mother, enter a special protest, against its ap- 
plication to such a mere child as Frances. But I see 
I have done wisely in keeping her out of the blaze of 
your admiration young gentlemen, if I would not have 
her a perfect hlase in less time than I care to mention.” 

‘‘ Come Miss De Witt,” said our old friend Lucy, 
joining the group with a face of imperturbable compo- 
sure ; come, I am sure you must be tired, hearing 
these beaux ” (mischievously slurring the word to leave 
it doubtful whether she had not said lores) ‘‘ making 
love to your Aunt, for your cousin Frances.” 

‘‘ Thank you Lucy, and be so good as to point out 
to Wilhelmine, the limits which circumscribe our boun- 
daries.” 

“ With pleasure, Mrs. Lenox,” and the young ladies 
4 


74 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


turned to retire. When about half across the room, 
Mr. Russell — who happened to be standing, and to re- 
collect the admonition he had already received, not to 
treat the new-comer with impertinence — advanced 
slowly to her side ; and without speaking a word, ac- 
companied her to the outside of the door, and then 
bowed himself out of the way. 

“ISTo Mr. Clayton — no Mr. Tyler,” said Lucy as 
two gentlemen stepped forward to offer their attend- 
ance ; “ I have taken Miss De Witt under my special 
protection, and am going to give her a chart du pays^ 
with the different bearings of all the landmarks and 
shoals on this part of the coast, and instruct her by my 
failure, on all the w^eak sides and vulnerable points of 
the ‘ smalt craft ’ in tlie harbor. I hope to see at least 
a dozen of you, strike your colors, and sail in her wake 
to the plains of Abraham. Montmorenci is a nice 
place, I dare say, and but little out of the way either ; 
and in default of a better, will do very well in place of 
‘ Leucadia’s classic steep.’ Au revoir^ 

As Mr. Tyler had condescended to offer the ‘ Rus- 
tic’ his escort, it may be presumed, that he had somewhat 
unbent from the tone of lofty indignation, with which 
he rushed from her presence, when betrayed into bestow- 
ing on a stranger, the simper got up for one, who ought 
to be, if she was not, more than lialf in love with him 
already. But let no one infer from that, aught unfa- 
vorable touching the gentleman’s consistency. The 
movement was prompted by no lingering weakness for 
beauty ; but on sober second thought, it had occurred 
to him, that the ‘season’ would not last always, and 
that Miss Lenox was out of other people’s way, as well 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


75 

as his own ; and moreover that her mother had a house 
in New York, the entree of which had hitherto been as 
inaccessible to him, as the gates of Elysium. “ Atten- 
tion to her penniless niece,’’ thought he, will he the 
‘ open sesame ’ to her house and good will, and then 
who knows ? At all events making a little love to her 
can do no harm,” (strange he should have overlooked 
the possibility of breaking the young lady’s heart,) 
and will sjjeak well for the disinterested nature of my 
ultimate proposals to her daughter. And besides, as 
Gus Clayton says, ‘ who knows she is penniless, if her 
father is a country Parson ? she is in mourning ; and it 
may he for some rich old grandfather, or bachelor un- 
cle. And that s very true j 2^GC)pl6 don’t go in mourn- 
ing tor nothing, these days : there’s no use in it,” solilo- 
quised the demi-millionnaire, so he thought better of it, 
and concluded to be civil. By the way, we may as 
well tall in with the general custom, and drop his pre- 
fix. Every stage from New York, had increased his 
Thousands, till he burst at last upon Saratoga in the 
full splendor of a millionnaire ; nor was the exaggera- 
tion so extravagant as usual. Both Miss Yan Lear and 
Prances, had virtually called him a fool ; but he cer- 
tainly did not want financial talent. Monopolizing, to 
the exclusion of other, as rightful heirs, the entire 
wealth, of which his father’s nefarious practices, had 
defrauded his creditors, he had more than doubled it, 
in the five years during which it had been in his own 
possession. The love of money, had now become his 
ruling- passion, and at an age when most men in his 
circumstances, would have made personal charm^ the 
first sine qua non in a Beauty^ with him was at 


•76 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


discount, myik was desirable, but gold was indispeiisa' 
ble. Beauty, thought he, is a mere matter of taste,, and 
at best but very evanescent — ^ro/nk^ what is it? Gold 
makes rank — without gold, who acknowledges its ex- 
istence? No wonder he bowed to its omnipotence ! 


“ Yery charming young lady, that niece of yours, 
Mrs. Lenox ! Almost fallen in love with her — so like 
your fascinating daughter. Didn’t think so at first — so 
disappointed, in not meeting Miss Lenox, couldn’t ap- 
preciate her at once ; like her better now — think her a 
beauty too, if I hadn’t seen her cousin — Pray madam, 
may I ask what her family is ? ” 

‘‘She is my Father’s granddaughter, sir.” 

“ Of course that settles the question as to ‘ Family,’ ” 
returned our millionnaire, as much in the dark as ever ; 
for though he had often heard it called “ of the best,” 
he knew no more than the Khan of Tartary, who her 
family were. But not to know, or seem to know, 
“would argue himself unknown,” so he shifted his 
ground. “Wouldn’t have presumed to ask so super- 
fiuous a question, respecting a niece of yours Mrs. 
Lenox — meant to inquire what her Father was ? ” 

“My sister married her second cousin, a clergyman 
of the church of England.” 

“ Ah I recollect — large family I presume. Proverb 
to that effect, I believe.” 

“ Not far from the average number, either way,” 
rejoined Mrs. Lenox, who knowing her ability to silence 
his impertinence whenever she chose, amused herself 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 77 

by answering his questions, without giving him any 
information. 

Excuse me madam, we young fellows are apt to 

be rather curious about the families of pretty girls ” 

fte “pretty girls,” grated rather harshly on Mrs. 
Lenox’s feelings, hut she suffered him to go on. “ Take 
considerable interest in Miss De Witt; if I hadn't -met 
her_ coustn first, don’t know ’’—and here M. Le Million- 
naire sunk into a profound reverie, leaving Mrs. Lenox 
to fill up the sentence by the aid of her own imagina- 
tion. At length he roused himself sufliclently to re- 
mark, “ Appears to be in mourning, rather foolish cus- 
tom that, don’t you think so madam 2 Heavy tax- 
very well worth while though, to put it on, somkimes— 
JNo near relation, I hope.” 

“ Of course not, or I should wear it too.” 

“ Ah, on her Father’s side, some old uncle, or cou- 
sin I suppose.” 

]VIy bi other-in-law put his family in mourning for 
a favorite cousin I believe.” 

“ Settled something handsome on him, I dare say.” 

“ Can’t say sir. I never inquired.” The Inquisitor 
felt himself rebuked, but he was gifted with a happy 
obtuseness to all sorts of rebuffs, and had wormed him- 
self near the query uppermost in his mind, that he 
could not think of stopping, just short of the goal. So 
he resumed, “ Oh no doubt he did, madam, must have 
been something worth having, that induced Miss De 
Witt to go into mourning, and she just coming out;— 
has fine expectations I dare say.” 

“Yery possibly— youth is the season of bright 
hopes, and brilliant expectations.” 


78 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


Brilliant you say madam— Do very well to keef 
it quiet, wouldn’t advise you to let it be known ; so 
many harpies, spendthrifts, landsharks, (the ‘land- 
sharks’ was for the special benefit of his very good 
friend Sinclair,) and needy sharpers of every descrip- 
tion, always ready to pounce upon an heiress. Miss 
De Witt quite pretty enough without any fortune — 
Fifty, or a Hundred Tliousand though I dare say ? ” 

“ Can’t say exactly sir, as to the number of Thou- 
sands, but shouldn’t be much surprised,” speaking very 
slowly, “ if her expectations amounted, to the extent 
of — ” Mr. Tyler opened his ears, “ finding a good hus- 
band some day among her equals^ 

“ Hanged, if I don’t think she meant to insinuate, 
that I wasn’t one of the number,” muttered the baflded 
worthy, as he turned away from Mrs. Lenox’s unmis- 
takable nod of dismissal. “ Close as an iron chest, can 
get nothing out of her; and won’t commit myself upon 
uncertainties — believe I’m right though,” and accord- 
ingly he was ten times more assiduous than ever. 


“ Oh I do miss Lucy so much mamma, I wish Dr. 
Morton had staid till Papa came.” 

“ Do you not find the Miss Westons and others, very 
agreeable young ladies ? ” 

“ The oldest one is, the other is so coarse and domi- 
neering, I don t like her. Put do tell me mamma, 
what arrh I to do with Mr. Tyler? He is such a great 
man here, and now that there is so little competition, 
he is almost as gracious, and a great deal more pestifer- 
ous than he was in Hew York.” 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


70 


“Do just as you did there, my dear. Avoid him 
as »iuch as possible without seeming to do so, dance 
and ride with him when it can’t be helped without the 
grossest insult ; but remember^ whenever he proposes a 
tete-a-tete ride, or promenade, that it is quite probable, 
in tact certain, that I have some other engagement for 
you at the time, of which you are not then aware.” 

But it is quite time we were looking after some of 
our other proteges. 

“I say Sinclair, horrid bore isn’t it, smuggling her 
daughter, and then with tliat imperial air of forc- 
ing us to he civile to the little simpleton whose ‘ W-ead 
and butter,’ countryfied face she has brought into mar- 
ket, on pain of her displeasure, and the consequent loss 
of hei husband s suffrage — not that I care so very much 
for that, for it’s nearly time for another grand houlever- 
sement, any how ; but such an unparalleled outrage on 
the rights of the sovereign people, (of course this was 
our friend the Politician,) ought not to go unpunished— 
ran away, with her daughter, myself,' out of pure spite, 
if I could only ffnd out, wdiere she was burrowed. Got 
any farther, than ‘ Elmwood,’ heigh ? ” 

“ ETo, only that Elmwood, means the Parson^e, or 
Country-seat, or something of the sort ; instead of the 
village where it is located.” 

“ Infernal shame, I say, won’t stand it any longer 

go over to the other Party, cursed if I don’t.” And in 
pursuance of this laudable intention, the Government 
officer evacuated the premises, shortly after ; but Mr. 
Sinclaii resolved to hold one more effort, near mamma, 
before giving up the chase. 

“It is understood madam, that the Supreme Court 


80 


EISING YOUNG MEN. 


adjourns in a week, or Ten days at farthest; may we 
not expect Miss Lenox on, with her Father? ” 

“ No, Mr. Sinclair, my daughter is very young to 
he out at all, and this is a sad place for spoiling inex* 
perienced girls. It has long been my intention, to take 
Frances abroad for a year or two, and wish her, or 
course, to derive both pleasure and profit from her 
travels, which, you know, she would not, if dreaming 
all the while, over some silly love affair. This, is the 
very place for entanglements of that sort ; not to men- 
tion the possibility, of some romantic youth’s persuad- 
ing her to set out with him, in quest of one of those 
charming cottages, or delightful city residences, (so 
common in Utopia, and so unique, in the topography 
of everyday life) which exclude all the desagremens of 
poverty, and retain all the luxuries of wealth, without 
any of its cares Such, I mean, as Poets, Novelists, 
and our fashionable Tale writers, in particular, are so 
obliging as to build, for the accommodation of high- 
spirited young ladies, who fiout their mammas, quiz 
their governesses, and execute somersets out of cham- 
ber windows ; and independent young gentlemen, who 
‘cut’ their Papas, marry Actresses, run away with 
French Milliners, pretty Haymakers, and Travelling 
Singers. We, who don’t live in Arcadia, should con- 
sider our fortunes made, if we could only engage one 
of those self-same Architects, to supei-intend the erec- 
tion of a villa, or the construction of a Summer House, 
when we had any thing of the sort on hand.” 

“And does Judge Lenox connive at this treason of 
yours, ‘ against the public weal, and the peace and quiet 
of the good citizens’ of New York, in particular?” 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


81 


“Accomplice in full— < art and part ’ as you Law- 
yers say.’’ 

^ “ I give you fair notice madam, that I shall do all 

in my power, to prevent such a dangerous innovation.” 

“ ‘ Forewarned, forearmed,’ Mr. Sinclair.” 

But seriously, Mrs. Lenox, you do not contemplate 
Bie possibility of keeping your daughter single, for 
Ihree or Four years ? ” 

“ Very seriously, Mr. Sinclair I do. And don’t ap- 
preheiid, that either she, or myself, would be very un- 
easy, if it should chance to be Six or Seven, even. At 
all events, Nineteen, is plenty young enough, for any 
lady to marry. Physiologists complain, that the hu- 
man race is depreciating; Travellers, uniformly, agree 
that it is peculiarly true of this country — that females 
are old, here, before those in Europe, reach their prime. 
And foreigners, are perpetually remarking, that we 
have ‘no such thing as society only Marriage Ba- 
zaars; in which mothers take ‘ the wall,’ and thrust 
forward daughters, who ought, themselves, to be in the 
nursery : that few, even in our best circles, enjoy that 
social position, which is accorded to ladies of their class, 
elsewhere. And the reason is obvious, they are incom- 
petent to fill it — under our high-pressure system, it is 
impossible it should be otherwise — and what better can 
we expect, when we sufier our daughters to become 
wives and mothers, while they are almost as much chil- 
dien, as the infants in their arms ? The great tendency 
of the age, of the American age at least, is not only ts 
deteriorate, but vulgarize, and, (if I may coin anothei 
verb) to frivolize. There should be a counteracting 
tendency, somewhere; and I am resolved that mv 


82 


KISING YOUNG MEN. 


daiiffliter, shall have the chance to look on life, in its 

o 7 

ditferent phases, before she plunges headlong, into the 
turbid stream of existence.” 

Useless prosecuting my suit, any further in that 
direction,” thought the Eising young counsellor ; “ for- 
tunate I discovered it, though, time enough to prevent 
an expose — girls all so absurdly fastidious, about being 
what they call ^ a secondary choice.’ Glad, now, she 
didn’t come, made so much against my prospects else- 
where ; ” and thereupon, the ardent suitor, with a faint 
sigh over the dissolution of his brightest air-blown bub- 
ble, retired, to put himself in the train of the younger 
Miss Grey, and in a few days returned with her to 'New 
York. 


CIEAPTEE lY. 

u Jrreclaimdble Tustic^"^ exclaimed a light-Tobacco- 
colored Adonis of sixty, rushing into the open air with 
a velocity, that had well nigh overturned a respectable 
dowager, who was taking her evening promenade, in 
company with Mrs. Lenox. “ Beg your pardon, ma’am, 
but,” turning to her companion, “ Yery extraordinary 
behavior, very indeed madam ; ” yet he never stopped 
to explain what it was, or who had been guilty of it — ■ 
save by addressing the remark to Mrs. Lenox, in a 
manner implying that she, was someway interested, or 
implicated — ^bnt passed on grumbling to himself, some- 
thing about shutting her up in a dark room, and sending 
her to bed without her supper. “ The insolent baggage, 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


83 


to tell me, that I was older and uglier than Judge 
Lenox, or her Father ! ’’ 

Wilhelmine, child, what have you been doing to 
old Mr. Cinnamon, to put him in such a frightful pas- 
sion ? ” b 

Oh nothing aunt, only he seems so anxious to get 
himself off his hands, and talks to me so much about* 
helping him, to put an end to his ^ single blessedness,’ 
that I thought I would be charitable, and do the best I 
could for him. So I told him, that although I knew he 
admired yoio very much, and my mother was very 
much like you, I wouldn’t advise him to wait for either ; 
because uncle Harry looked so young and handsome, 
and seemed likely to live so much longer, that I didn’t 
7nuGh he’d ever get a chance to ‘stand in Ms 

shoes,’ or my Father’s either ; but that old Mrs. Morri- 
son, would, I hadn't a doubt, make him an excellent 
wife, and it would be suitable, I would do all in my 
power, to persuade her to have him. And then, don’t 
you think, instead of making me a polite bow, and 
thanking me for my kindness, he just stormed out of 
the room like something mad ? That’s all the thanks 
people ever get, for good advice.” 

“ And so I am to thank yon for being run over,” 
said the old lady, laughing, “ well I forgive you this 
time, darling j but mind you don’t make a bugbear of 
me again.” 

“Ho child,” said the mother, “if Mrs. Morrison 
wasn’t so well aivare, that you alluded to nothing but 
your ‘ suitable’ wouldn’t appear very complimen- 
tary.” 

“ Oh you mustn’t scold her,” said the good lady, “ I 


84 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


understand her j)erfectly.’’ “ First Faults^'^ say some 
casuists, ‘‘ should he dealt with, very leniently,” while 
others maintain exactly the reverse. We are sorry to 
ay, that the subsequent conduct, of the culprit so 
ightly reprieved, went to prove the more rigid disci- 
dinarians, in the right, hut we must not anticipate. 


“ Can you favor me with a half hour’s conversation, 
Mrs. Lenox?” said a rather good-looking, well-pre- 
served gentleman of Five and Forty, or perhaps Fifty; 
I want your honest advice.” 

My time is entirely at your service, Mr. hlaw- 
thorne ; but the giving of advice, is, as Wilhelmine re- 
marked the other day, rather a thankless affair — ^it is so 
difficult, acquitting one’s self satisfactorily, at the same 
time, to the feelings of the advised, and the conscience 
of the adviser.” 

“ I shall insist, that you spare your own conscience, 
at whatever expense to my feelings may be necessary. 
If you had the moral nerve to speak, and I to endure, 
nothing but concurrence it would be idle to ask counsel, 
on so delicate and important a subject as matrimony.” 

I wmuld most certainly recommend it. Sir, pro- 
vided you can make a satisfactory choice. Indeed I 
am surprised a man of your companionable tastes and 
genial temperament, should have deferred it so long.” 

“ Oh I can choose to suit myself^ admirably ; but 
the fact is, I have, as you say, deferred this matter ‘ so 
long,’ (though not out of malice prepense,) that I feel 
a good deal of awkwardness, in approaching it now ; 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


85 


and not a little misgiving, respecting the issue. But 
muider will out’ and the truth is, 1 think your niece, 
the most bewitching little creature, eyes ever looked 
upon.” 

“ What— Wilhelmine ? ” 

“Yes madam. Miss De Witt,” returned the gentle- 
man, who either could not, or would not, see tJie inter- 
locutor’s astonishment ; for astonished she undoubtedly 
was, notwithstanding the recent failure of the Cinna- 
mon speculation. “ Do you think it at all probable, I 
could win her own, and her Parents’ consent ? ” 

“Utterly impossible, Mr. Hawthorne. Ho matter 
how highly they might esteem yourself, neither party 
would ever consent to such a sacrifice.” 

“ '‘Sacrifice! ’ ” 

“Beg pardon, sir, the use of the term was entirely 
involuntary.” And so much the worse, thought Mr. 
Hawthorne, because more indicative of feeling, but he 
proceeded, “You don’t consider madam, that I would 
do so mucJi^ so very much more than common, to pro- 
mote her happiness, in whatever way it could best be 
secured, whether — ” 

“I understand you, Mr. Hawthorne, but her pa- 
rents are, fortunately, under no necessity of making 
merchandise of one child, for the benefit of another ; 
and the very fact of your having recourse to such argu- 
ments, should evince the fallacy of your expectations. 
You would never have pressed that kind of rhetoric, 
into service, Fifteen or Twenty years ago. If I mistake 
not,” added she, apologetically, “ you were a classmate 
of my husband’s, and we, who haven’t receded quite so 
fai* from youtli, as to forget that we once were young, 


86 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


should recollect, that ‘ The heart of youth ever turns to 
youth,’ and not look for happiness, in the violation of 
so obvious an instinct of nature.” 

But she loves her Father, and uncle, and yourself, 
devotedly, and she is so warmhearted and affectionate, 
in disposition, why might she not love me too ? ” 

‘‘ 1^0 doubt she would, as a daughter, or niece, but 
I understood you to be talking of a wife^ and can con- 
ceive of no more exquisite misery, than for one, truly 
generous, highly sensitive mind, to be united to an- 
other, of the same stamp, only to find when too late, 
that there is an impassable barrier, wFich will forever 
forbid, their warmest and dearest sympathies to meet 
and blend in unison.” 

“ And so you condemn me to linger on, in hopeless 
celibacy,” resumed the ancient lover, after some Ten 
or Fifteen minutes, of what seemed profound refiection, 
not unmixed with bitterness. 

“ By no means, Mr. Hawthorne — where are all the 
laughing, little girls, that used to romp with the ‘ big 
man,’ before he got too grave and dignified, for such 
childish sports ? ” 

“ All dead or married I believe, but Clara Malden, 
(and she was prettiest of them all too,) but you surely 
wouldn’t ask me, to marry such an old maid, as that ! ” 

“Hot unless you were justly accountable for her 
being an old maid, in which case I presume she wouldn’t 
have you ; but how comes it, that the ‘ little girl ’ has 
got so much ahead of the ‘ Ug man^ as to be so old 
while he is — a mate for sixteen ? ” This was “ the un- 
kindest cut of all,” and the bachelor fairly winced un- 
der the infliction ; but l)e bore up like a hero. 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


87 


“ You will not deny, Mrs. Lenox, that a woman 
fades much faster than a man ? ” 

‘‘ISTo, Mr. Hawthorne, but not so very much faster, 
(other things being equal,) that— in short, I have never 
learned that my husband’s case, elicited any marked 
expressions of sympathy ; and yet I lack rather more 
than a Twelvemonth of being Ten years his junior.” 

‘‘ But with such a face as yours, Mrs. Lenox — ” 

Oh we’ll admit that, to be perfect, but had my 
brotherdn-law introduced us, simply as the elder, and 
younger. Miss De Witt, you would never have taken 
the trouble to discover whether I were such a Yenus or 
not. Marriage is to woman, the ‘broad mantle of 
charity,’ that covers many a moral, and physical defect, 
that celibacy would render glaringly conspicuous. A 
man may see a lady, one day, and think her a very 
pretty woman ; but let him learn, on the next, that she 
is ‘ only an old maid,’ and he will not be able to see 
that she ever had any pretensions to beauty, or attrac- 
tions of any kind.” 

“ There is something in that, I admit, for I have 
witnessed one or two instances of the kind, very recent- 
ly ; and even Dr. Caustic, finds something ‘ quite in- 
teresting,’ in the face of his ‘ cadavera,^ and ‘ DeaWs 
head^ since it turns out to be all a mistake, about her 
being Miss Methuselah ; but somehow Single Ladies, 
always do seem to look older, than married ones of the 
same age.” 

“ That is true, to a certain extent, but is chiefiy 
owing to what is commonly called primness ; that is, 
an indefinable something in the air and costume, arising 
from an apprehension of encroaching unwarrantably. 


88 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


on the style and manner of matrons, or young girls ; 
hut let one of these same Primmies marry, and in six 
or eight months, she will look much younger than a 
junior, who has been a wife Ten or Twelve years, pro- 
vided she makes any thing like an eligible connexion. 
However I don’t insist that you shall take a Spinster, 
Mr. Hawthorne ; for not to mention your numerous ac- 
quaintance, at home and abroad, here is an extensive 
assortment of widows, from Five and Twenty to Forty, 
but all young ^ so take your choice. I can be very 
liberal you see, with what is not mine to give.” 

“ Yes, but if I am not to have one more than Ten 
years younger than myself — ” 

“ Oh I will be very generous, and say Twenty — no 
that will not do either,” (recollecting that he might not 
like to admit his half-a-century,) “ you may take one as 
low as Thirty, but no lower.” 

“ Thank you Mrs. Lenox, that is rather better than 
I expected, after the lecture you have been reading me 
this morning.” 

- “ Oh I generally relax a little, when people submit 
themselves to reason ; and as an old and valued friend 
of iny husband’s, should like to see you, better matched, 
that is matched, with a more rational prospect for do- 
mestic felicity, than you could possibly be, if united to 
any child, who calls people of your age, and mine, 

‘ old^ Twenty times a day, without meaning any im- 
pertinence, or being at all conscious of the fact.” 

“ I have half a mind to yield myself wholly to your 
discretion.” 

“ Eeserving of course the lady’s privilege of refus- 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


89 


ing. Yery well then, what do yon sky to Mrs. Abbot 
— but she is too ugly — Mrs. Simson — will she do ? ” 

“ Talks too loud, considering she has such a coarse 
voice.” 

Mrs. Tennyson ? ” 

“Has too many children, and nearly grown too. 
Her next neighbor has a low sweet voice, and is much 
better looking.” 

“ Mrs. Wiley ? ” 

“ A perfect fidget — ^hut why do yon pass the 
other ? ” 

“ Rather under the mark I expect — Mrs. Manly — 
good fortune, and only Three children.” 

“ Wouldn’t care for the fortune if it wasn’t for so 
many children, on the wrong side the house too. Mrs. 
Tennyson’s neighbor has but one, and it’s a very pret- 
ty, well-behaved child too.” 

“ Hever mind her — Mrs. Monkton ? ” 

“ Is such an everlasting giggler, and shouldn’t won- 
der if she was a bit of a gossip ; but the other lady — ” 

“ May not be in market, so — ” 

“ But you can ascertain. I don’t maich think, her 
husband is living.” 

“ It isn’t material — told you not to go under Thirty.” 

“ But just a year or Two, wouldn’t make much dif- 
ference.” 

Yery well then, there’s Mrs. Harman, she is only 
‘ a year or Two,’ over.” 

“ And as affected, and ‘ bread and butterish,’ as an 
embryo prude of fifteen ; and in such mortal tear, of 
being thought on the lookout for a husband, one dares 
be sworn, she thinks of little, or nothing else. Must 


90 


EISING YOUNG MEN. 


have known, nature intended her for a foil, to that 
grandly, simply^ beautiful creature opposite, when she 
took up her position.” 

“ And what do you think of her f ” 

^^Her — hee! Oh she belongs to Heaven and Hu- 
manity. Hever did dare to think of her, only as a 
‘ bright particular star ’ — should as soon think of hang- ^ 
ing a Floral garland on one of the lightning- crowned 
oaks of Dodona.” 

“ You are right. She is one of them, I think ; but 
Mrs. Jarvis — she’s none ‘ too wise or good, for human 
nature’s daily food.’ ” 

‘‘ Makes herself such an intolerable simpleton, with 
her pert, childish airs, lest somebody should suspect 
her — tlie Lord knows why^ — of being a Blue. And 
then, she is so immensely amiable^ I haven’t a doubt, 
her last husband died of a tongue distemper.” 

“ How scandalous you are — do you expect I am go- 
ing to have all the good company taken off after this 
fashion ? ” 

“I haven’t said a word against Mrs. Tennyson’s 
party. Who is that lady, that sits next her ? ” 

“ A half sister, or sister, or sister-in-law I believe.” 
seems a very quiet, unpretending, lady-like 
woman. — Do you recollect her name ? ” 

‘‘ It isn’t like to be yours, so it makes no difference. 
Try again.” 

“ But why will you not let me talk of her ? ” 

“ Because she’s scarce presentable.” 

“ Well now, I should say, she was a lady, born, and 
bred, and fit to grace any position.” 

“ Oil, I didn’t mean that — infinitely worse.” 


HISING YOUNG MEN. 


91 


‘‘ISTot a Divorce ! You don’t mean to say that wo- 
man, isn’t unscathed ? ” 

‘‘ Not at all.” 

“ Of course not, she^s no Lionne^ what is it then ? ” 

“ Oh, if you must know, she is, an ‘ old maid ! ’ ” 

‘‘ What, she — whose is that child, then ? ” 

“ Her sister’s, and the parents are both dead. And 
now that your curiosity is satisfied, it is to be hoped, 
you will attend to business.” 

“ But why isn’t she in market ? ” 

She doesn’t choose to have either her affections, or 
her fortune, such as it is, alienated from that child, I 
suppose. At least, I have heard, that before she be- 
came quite Passes^ she declined several offers, called 
‘ eligible,’ on account of the latter, chiefly.” 

‘‘She was wise, in rejecting any one, who could ob- 
ject to so natural, and reasonable a provision for her 
adopted child ; but I see no reason why her affections 
should be ‘ alienated.’ ” 

“ ‘ Still harping on my daughter.’ ” 

“ What is her name ? ” 

“ Never talk of womarCs curiosity again, as long as 
you live ; here am I doing my best to promote your 
interests ; and can’t for the life of me, get your atten- 
tion, for that foolish crotchet, you have got in your 
head ! ” 

“ ‘ Business to-morrow ’ — wfill you not, tell me her 
name ? ” 

“ Emma Lawrence — are you satisfied now ? ” 

“ Not Mrs. Manley’s ‘ old-niaid-cousin,’ that she 
laughs so much about ? ” 

“ The same ; but do tell me, if you are not absolute- 


92 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


Ij bewitched, by wliat necromancy it is, that a single 
woman, who writes Mrs, before her name, should al- 
ways grow young,, in the exact ratio, that simple 
Miss-^^,, grow, old ? I don’t understand it, but that 
letter i?, must, undoubtedly, be a sign to conjure with. 
Here, for instance, is the ‘ old maid,, Emma Lawrence,’ 
who to my certain knowledge, didn’t come out, till five 
years after the ‘ young widow Manley ’ was married. 
And I don’t recollect, either, to have heard any of 
those ^jpoor childs ’ and ^poor young things^ with which 
mothers and aunts, (when there is the least possible 
chance,) commonly signalize the induction of their 
elevees into the pale of matrimony, after having suffered 
almost martyrdom, to accomplish it.” 

“I can’t explain it. Madam, but will you tell me, if 
Miss—” 

“ Ho sir, I will not tell you another word about 
her, (just now,”) said Mrs. Lenox, laughing, “ and I 
am going to break up the conference, and you may get 
somebody else to look you out a wife, or wither on the 
stalk of ‘ single blessedness,’ forever, for aught I care ; 
for you don’t pay the least bit of attention to my sug- 
gestions ; ” and she w^alked ofi*, wdth a mock air of of- 
fended dignity, quite certain of the success of her ma- 
noeuverings. 

It was quite an eventful day in the history of our 
fair “ Kustic ; ” for if Mr. Haw^thorne — the Baltimore 
friend of Judge Lenox, wdio had just returned from a 
long residence abroad — had deemed it expedient to 
sound the mother, before risking the possibility of mak- 
ing himself ridiculous, or hateful, to the daughter, an- 
other, relied more unliesitatingly, on his own powers of 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


93 


persuasion. And Mrs. Lenox had not advanced far, 
before she encountered an elderly gentleman — less re^ 
markable for classic elegance of face, or figure, than a 
very aldermanly rotundity of person — engaged, under 
the potent stimulus of love and wine, in an earnest, and 
even angrj-, remonstrance with her daughter. ‘‘Had 
you not better, Miss, w^ait, till you consult your parents, 
or at least, your Aunt, before you presume to refuse an 
offer, you may hereafter vainly wish to recall ? ” 

“My Father, Sir, loves me too well, and respects 
himself, too much, to entertain such a proposition, for a 
moment. And as for Aunt Lenox, if she didn’t think 
it all, a silly, ^ after Dinner^ jest, she would, I think, 
be apt to ‘ presume,’ that you needed Leeches, and a 
Physician, much more tlian a young wife ; for I have 
often heard her say, that ‘ affections of the hrain-^ were 
very dangerous.’ ” 

“ What’s that, Wilhelmine ? Don’t be making me 
responsible, for any more of your flippancies ? ” 

“Oh, not much, ‘Aunt Frances,’ only Mr. Sugar- 
cane, here, wants me to go and look after his ‘ darkies,’ 
and dry-nurse, some five, or six of his children ; as his 
first wife’s daughter is married, and the next sister will 
be apt to be, as she isn’t more than five, or six months 
older than myself. Don’t you think bleeding, and a 
more abstemious diet, would be good for him ? ” said 
the “ audacious minx,” disappearing, without waiting 
for a reply. 

“ You must excuse her hoydenish hricsqueries, Mr. 
Sugarcane ; you know that when we old people put 
ourselves on a level with children, we must expect a 
child’s reply.” 


94 


lilSING YOUNG MEN. 


“ ‘ Old people, old people,’ ” muttered Mr. S. — “ tlie 
insolent old aristocrat ” ; (she was at least fifteen years 
his junior;) “what better can she expect, when the girl 
has no fortune ? ” But as it would not exactly do, to 
insult the “lady of Hon. Henry Lenox, of the U. S. 
Supreme Court,” he bowed himself otF, in great wrath, 
to dissipate his love and ire, in the fumes of champagne, 
and cigars. 

“ You see now, how it is Frances — ^for the old fa- 
miliar name would recur in the privacy of their own 
apartment — you see how it is, that Ladies without for- 
tune, though young and lovely as yourself, are often 
constrained to make these unnatural alliances. They 
are surrounded, and admired, and fiattered, as you have 
been, but if compelled to marry, they must take some 
old rattlebones of an Anatomy, who expects his wealth 
to purchase the toy^ he covets, to amuse his second 
childhood.” 

“But I would live single, forever, before /would 
take any of the old Death’s heads, or stuffed frogs, 
either.” 

you could ; but what if you were wholly de- 
pendent, on some old aunt, mother, or sister, of the Mrs. 
Waterson stamp, who was perpetually reminding you 
of the fact, upbraiding your fastidiousness, and ringing 
the changes on ‘ Old Maid,’ in your ears, till Pui’gatory 
itself, seemed a desirable retreat, from the never-ending 
din ? Or suppose you had a delicate, soul-stricken mo- 
ther, a gallant, high-spirited brother, chafing and pining, 
in infantile weakness, and plainly sinking day by day 
into the grave, for want of appliances, which only gold 
can bring ; or, perhaps a helpless family of younger 


HISING YOTJICG MEN. 


95 


brothers and sisters, not only growing np without the ed- 
ucation befitting any respectable station in life, but with 
the actual pressure of present want, and the frightful 
prospect of future starvation, absolutely staring them in 
the face I Do you suppose, that under such circum- 
stances, you could reject the offer of proffered wealth, 
as unhesitatingly, as now ? ” 

‘‘ Oil, no, mamma, I could not, see you and Henry, 
you, who would so lavish your wealth and your lives, 
for me, no I could not see you sicken and die, if any 
thing I could do, would save you ; but oh, if I could 
only worh^ could only die, to serve you ! ” 

“ All, if you only could. But what could you, or 
Lucy, or Caroline, do for your mothers, brothers, and 
sisters, under such circumstances ? Hot half as much, 
or as efficiently, as our Bettys and Bridgets, with their 
warm hearts, strong arms, and self-denying love (God 
bless, and keep them so) often do, for theirs. ‘ Work ’ — • 
oh yes, of course you could work — if you could get it 
— but what would it avail ? Teaching^ sewing,, menial 
service,, these are the Lay nunneries of Protestant lands. 
How many of all the daughters of rank and refinement, 
who have to enter them, can do little, if any thing more, 
with all their heroic devotion, and overtaxed energies, 
than sacrifice themselves, without saving others ? Hot 
one in a hundred, yet how few stop to consider all this, 
or ever look behind the scenes, to weigh well, all the 
motives. How few ever pause, in their sweeping de- 
nunciations, of these unnatural alliances^ to consider 
how much their own course, is adding to the might of 
tlie ^ unspiritnal god,’ Circumstance, and the number of 
the victims lie is goading on to desperation. Men are 


96 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


as severe, upon the vanity, the heartlessness, and the 
cupidity of those who contract them, as if it were noth- 
ing, for ‘ a tender and delicate woman,’ to relinq^uish 
her position in life, sink away from her accustomed 
sphere, unnoticed and unknown ^ and become the toil- 
ing, abject menial of her old compeers, perhaps, infe- 
riors ; thougli they can impiously fly to the pistol, or 
weakly grasp the maddening bowl, till sense and reason 
reel, in order to escape the bitter consciousness of such 
a change. As severe, as if none of them, were ever 
known to make a common drudge, and ready scapegoat 
for all domestic petulance, of some ‘ old maid sister,’ or 
‘ aunt,’ whose very virtues, seem to them, to lean to 
failing’s side, and are (quite as often as their defects) 
made the standing butt of silly jests, and causeless 
sneers ; — as if no man ever thought it much, to give 
shelter, in middle life, or old age, to her who had given 
up her youth, and youthful hopes to him, or his, .only 
to find toleration ; or at best, only a little fitful affeC’ 
tion, in place of the more than mother’s love and honor, 
which is her due^ who has given a mother’s love and 
care, to children not her own. Severe, as if they never 
contributed, by word, and deed, and pen, to heap scorn 
and reproach of every name and mode and form, on 
the class of unmarried females, who have survived the 
first freshness of their youth and beauty, till the very 
lisping infant, knows ‘ old maid^ to he a name of ob- 
loquy, and fear. And yet they, never dream, that they 
are at all accessory, when hundreds of gentle, shrink- 
ing, affectionate, and well-meaning, though weak-heart- 
ed girls, — hopeless of forming more suitable alliances 
elsewhere — fly to this legalized prostitution^ to shun the 


RISINa YOUNG MEN. 


97 


disgraceful name and doom ; — for, deny it wlio can, we 
have made the illegal one, little more ignominious, or 
appalling, to the young. 

But ihey^ responsible ? 'Not they, indeed ! Don’t 
they declaim and protest, as earnestly, as if it were an 
invasion of their own prescriptive, and exclusive rights, 
for a woman to think of marrying, for money ? Of 
course they do, hut if either party be excusable, for 
prostituting a sacred rite, to so unholy a purpose, it 
surely must be that, which is least competent to secure 
it by honorable means. Yet none of all our fashiona- 
ble tale writers, (and some of them seem haunted by 
the ghost of a marriage of convenience,) ever seem to 
reflect upon this, or consider, that while getting up this 
horrible nightmare of ‘ old forlornity,’ our civil and re- 
ligious polities, and that merciless Moloch, called 
Society, have all, alike, neglected to open up, to the 
portionless maiden, who is, or is any moment liable to 
he, stricken from her sphere, any adequate avenues to 
safe retreat, or honest, honorable independence for her- 
self, much less others, who may be clinging to her. 
Mo, they never consider, that these ‘ mercenary com- 
pacts ’ result quite as often, perhaps, from ^ the tyranny 
of strong affection,’ and woman’s consciousness of her 
own utter helplessness — sexual and social, — to aid and 
‘ save ’ those dearer to her, than her own life and hap- 
piness, as from the heartless yearning after splendor, 
and the unhallowed thirst of ambition. They, and their 
admirers, by the wholesale, could raise an altar to the 
Eoman Julia ; but for the sisters, and daughters, who 
are daily immolating themselves on the shrine of filial 
and fraternal affection — braving the loneliness and in- 
6 


98 


BI8ING YOUNG MEN. 


dignities of Spinsterhood, without a murmur, or con- 
signing themselves to worse than a living tomb — they 
have only scorn and malediction. 

But they might as well spare contumely, and in- 
vective both. God made the instincts of woman — they 
are naturally true and noble — at least they will always 
point her, clearly enough, in the right direction, what 
she needs, is help to reach it, not advice. She, does 
not need to be told, that there is misery and desecra- 
tion, in these unnatural mes-alliances^ others know, she 
feels it ; but what can her puny arm do, single-handed 
and alone, to beat back the iron wall of circumstance, 
that is over, and around, and crushing her ? ‘ Toil ’ — 
yes, but to what purpose ? To fill perhaps the very 
money bags, she will not share. And how shall she 
brook to enter, as Lady’s maid, or a contemned ‘ hire- 
ling,’ the very halls where she scorns to reign as mis- 
tress ? ‘ Oh^ if I could ONLY woKK, ONLY DIE ! Do you 

know, my child, that very thought, which has so 
blanched your lip, and paled your brow, is the honest, 
despairing, heart-cry of thousands ? Teaching, sewing, 
MENIAL SERVICE. Tliese are the avenues open to wo- 
man’s industry, and w^oman’s intellect. There is no 
other.” 

The Stage, and the Opera, Mamma.” 

‘‘ An American book, or Author, scarce succeeds, 
without the prestige of Foreign travel, an Opera Singer 
could not, without the eclat of Foreign residence and 
culture. Each makes, once in a great while, an indi- 
vidual celebrity, or fortune, but both, afford even living 
employ, to so very few, that they scarce deserve to be 
taken into account, setting social and religious objec- 


KISINa YOUNG MEN. 


99 


tioiis aside altogether. Objections to the former, more 
particularly though, I really see no good reason why. 
I^or, for that matter, why either, should he considered 
any less ‘ indelicate,’ and ‘ unwomanly,’ than the other 
kind of ‘ public speaking,’ which St. Paul so explicitly 
condemns ; only, that people like mirth and song, much 
better than reproof and reformation, and stand a rather 
better chance to be amused, in the one case, than im- 
proved, in the other. Possibly though, they may be 
among the ^ great iriany ways^ for female livelihood, 
always known to the patronizing, ‘ talking- good,’ sort 
of people, until pressed home for a single one, at all 
practicable, or accessible, to the individual seeker; 
when it generally turns out, that they ‘ can’t recollect 
any^ just then.’ The Song of the Shirty and the cry, 
‘ Alas, that meat should be so dear, and flesh and blood 
so cheap,’ which is continually ringing out, unheeded, 
from the dens and alleys, the garrets and cellars, that 
are every where sending forth their starving inmates, 
to gorge the Brothel and the Tombs, tell, all too plainly, 
what resource the needle is, or is henceforth like to be, 
to woman. So far as this world only is concerned, she 
had often better use it, at once, to let the warm life- 
blood, out of her veins, than rely upon it for support. 
For Menial Service — leaving the humiliation of the 
thing, entirely out of question — few, not ‘ to the manner 
born,’ have the necessary physique ; and if they had, 
how many, who have ‘ seen better days,’ could ever 
make contented wives, useful mothers, and happy hus- 
bands, even supposing they could get them, in the 
inferior ranks to which they are reduced ? ” 

Not many, out of Tales, and Poetry, I should 


100 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


tliink ; but surely Teaching, can’t be quite so bad — 
there’s Madame B. has got rich, and has ” — 

‘‘ And ought to have, as much standing, in Society, 
as any one. That’s all very true, my dear, but the 
Madame B’s. are the exception, not the rule — com- 
monly widows, or wives, of mature years, previously 
in commanding social positions, and the incumbency 
of handsome Establishments, convertible into Fashion- 
able Boarding Schools ; or at least, the influence and 
savoir faire to secure them. These, no young lady 
(and you know it is of the young we are speaking) 
could have to such an extent, be her family, and 
talents, what they might, nor would such a bold stroke, 
be exactly the thing, for a mere Miss, if she had. So 
want of influence to get, or means to reach, a more 
desirable ‘ Situation,’ keeps one, filial duty, or fra- 
ternal ties, another, where the supply exceeds the 
demand; and old friends and patrons find it harder 
and harder, year by year, to drum up a sufficient class 
in Music, Italian, or Drawing, as the case may be, to 
keep them and theirs, from abject want — often because 
it does not keep them, from the ‘ Shabbiness,’ which is 
sure to incur the insolence of purse-proud arrogance, 
and the premature stigma, of ‘ Old Maid,’ for the care- 
worn girl of Twenty.'’ 

‘‘ Like those ill-paid, • worse-used Day Governesses 
we used to meet, I suppose ; and I’m sure that pretty 
one, does look ten years older now, than she did two 
years ago.” 

“ Ah, she has counted ‘ time by heart throbs ;’ and 
even when less incumbered, and better paid, and ap- 
preciated, Teachers in the South and West, find, it is 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


101 


said, that when everything^ from a pin to a piano, has 
to be paid for , out of what seems a ver j liberal salary, 
they can seldom do little more, than ‘ live^^ and keep 
themselves presentable, in the circles they are — that it 
is only by a distressing economy, amounting almost to 
niggardliness, that they can lay up anything for the 
rainy day ot sickness and old age. That some few 
do escape from this ‘ lay cloister,’ into tolerably well 
assorted wedlock, may be reckoned among the miracles 
of modern times ; but on an average, those who enter 
it, have about as much chance of marrying out, as the 
Catholic Sisters of Charity. Perhaps, less, for if an 
‘eligible’ boarder, happens to fall very sick in the 
house of a widow Landlady, farewell to his single 
blessedness ; though, to be sure, a spinster nurse, would 
not be quite so dangerous.” 

“ Why, Mamma, I don’t think the Sisters oi Charity, 
ever marry ! ” 

“ ^^'either do I, but they tell me, they are just as 
free to do so, at the end of the year, as other folks, un- 
less they renew their vows ; and Teachers, commonly 
sell themselves to single life, in twelvemonth instal- 
ments. Teaching, has, it is true, one advantage over 
the other two — it doesn’t annihilate, so suddenly and 
irretrievably, all hope of associating, temporarily at 
least, on equal footing, with the refined and intellectual ; 
but even that, is often a most tantalizing, and illusive 
one, and on the whole, it may, like them, be fairly set 
down, I think, as another Institution for the promotion 
of celibacy. It must be remembered too, that of all 
wdio enter it, either to sustain life,»or advance them- 
selves in it, not one in a hundred, perhaps, has any 


102 


EISHSTG YOUNG MEN. 


more decided proclivities that way, than the Paddy 
had, for military glory, when he was ‘ forced to volun- 
teer.’ It isn’t every man of talent who could make a 
good Poet, or Civilian, try as he might, nor every good 
Christian, who would make a useful Pastor, or eloquent 
Divine ; neither is it every educated lady, who is ‘ apt 
to Teach.’ And some do hint, that if the generality ot 
men, had any very special fancy, for doing the ‘Walk- 
ing Lady,’ or A, B, C, drudgery, themselves ; they would 
no more tolerate female speaking, or Speakers, on the 
Stage, or in the Schoolroom, than out of it — that they 
would soon discover, that Speaking in public, was 
Public Speaking, whether it came off, in the School- 
room, or Conventicle, the Examination Hall, or the 
Forum ; and consequently, that woman had better 
‘ retire from Public life,’ make good wives and mothers, 
and cease all such unfeminine encroachments, on man- 
hood’s sphere. Others, who don’t presume to look at 
things^ except through names, or venture on any sly 
hits, at the human propensity, for making others very 
welcome to do, whatever we want done, and donH 
w^ant, to do — confess, hundreds, and hundreds of times, 
that there is no manual labor, to which their strength 
is at all equal, which they would not gladly choose, 
instead, ‘ if it were only as lucrative, and respect- 
able.’ ” 

“Yes, indeed, I know, I would much rather be 
Mrs. A.’s hairdresser, than her children’s Governess, if 
it wasn’t for that.” ‘ Delightful Task ! ’ Yes, for half 
an hour, may be, when the children were all nice, and 
took it into their .heads to be ‘ good,’ ‘ but for day in, 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


103 


and day out,’ oli dear, oh dea/r^ the very thought of it, 
almost suffocates me.” 

“ And no doubt often lies, on many a one, like a 
frightful incubus, or horrid nightmare, stifling out all 
the heart-life of existence. What wonder then, that 
with long years of this double and triple strain, on 
nerve, and soul, and brain, to do faithfully and well, 
what it is a continual cruciflxion to do at all, so many, 
should become prematurely old, sickly and ‘ scrawmy,’ 
if not fretful and distrait f And with all this dogged 
resolution necessary to keep them up to the regular ‘jog- 
trot,’ of teaching what they can, as best they can, what 
chance have they to keep ‘ posted uj),’ and avoid be- 
coming ‘ rusty,’ as well as old ? l^one, that I can see. 
The younger, the fairer and fresher^ must inevitably 
take their place ere long — ^people cannot always die, 
when others are weary of seeing them live ; and then, 
solitary and alone, with youth past, health lost, reputa- 
tion waning, and the grim phantoms of occupation 
gone, and homeless destitution, looming up, in appal- 
ling perspective, where shall they turn for refuge, this 
side the grave ? To the Common Hospital, the Alms- 
house, the Madhouse, or the Catholic Cloister! For, 
to the shame of Protestant Christendom be it spoken, 
they have no other. Why have we^ no Sisters of 
Charity? Have Protestant wmmen, less of the Good 
Samaritan — are they less to be trusted, than their sister, 
Sisters of Charity, of Mercy, aye, and of The Good 
Shepherd, too?” 

“ Pm sure I don’t know why they should have, or 
be, nor why they might not just as well, trust them- 
selves ; for Dr. Morton says they are never insulted, or 


104 : 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


interrupted, go where they will. ‘ Angels of Mercy,' 
he calls them, and do you know, Mamma, he says, ‘ It’s 
no use — all this din, about Papal Proselyting! You 
can’t fight Sisters of Charity, with Tracts, you must go 
and do likewise,^ ” 

I am glad you told me, dear, and he is right, 
I think. There is something so sublime (spring from 
what source it will) in the devotion which marches, 
unflinchingly, right into the jaws of a fearful Pestilence, 
to save, or soothe, when husband, wife, parents, chil- 
dren, and all other human aid have deserted — it appeals 
so strongly to all that is best and holiest, in the deep 
poetry of man’s nature, that nothing but a fiend, or 
bigot, could revile them. Their motives are with Him, 
who has said, ‘ By their fruits ye shall know them ’ — 
their deeds are with us, and far, far above all human 
praise, but not. Imitation; and it does seem to me, 
that with many of the Papal errors, we cast aside, 
some of the Catholic virtues, which we should do well 
to resume, and practise. For example, we might learn 
advantageously, to divorce ourselves, practically, from 
the one-ideaed Institution, and not take it for granted, 
that a victim, scorclied and marred in a great eonflagror 
tion^ would find roasting before a slow fire^ very com- 
fortable — in .other words, that whatever, a woman may 
have done once, nolens volens^ that j)articular thing (on 
a smaller scale) or nothing ; she can, and must, do all 
the time, and always. We might learn, to adapt means 
and ends, a little better to each other, and not so totally 
ignore the adaptabilit}^, or incompatibility of employ, 
and employed. And this very Institution, of the Sisters 
of Charity, might, I think, be vastly subservient to 


EISIKG YOUNG MEN. 


105 


woman’s happiness, and human weal, by giving her 
peculiar energies, industry, gentle tact, and ready hu- 
man sympathies, a better chance to find, and flow out 
in, congenial channels. It might, at least, give change 
of vocation — and with it, perhaps, new health and hope 
to the broken down Teacher, or Seamstress ; suit- 
aUe employ, and just appreciation, to the middle 
aged, or elderly Spinster, now considered an incum- 
brance, not household treasure ; and save some young 
girl from selling herself, legally, or illegally, for gold; 
and living thenceforth, as if she feared not God, neither 
regarded man, and knew no higher end, or aim, in life, 
than to drag about a gilded chain, buy a costlier rib- 
bon, and make a better hat block, for a French Milliner, 
than her neighbour.” 

“ I don’t think that one, who sold herself to that 
cross, ugly, old Bluebeard, last winter, would have 
cared to be saved — she wasn’t in want ! ” 

Hot just then, but there was a gentle, inefficient 
wife, nursery full of children, and dashing young belle, 
all hanging on the brittle thread of one man’s existence. 
Kich young men are hard to get, a poor one wouldn’t 
have suited her, nor she him, she was, perhaps, begin- 
ning to chafe under the inconvenience of a light purse 
and high position, and then she must marry, or in pro- 
cess of time become an Old Maid. She, and other just 
such, weak girls, or human butterflies, need all the 
strengthening, and protective influences, of a healthy 
tone of public sentiment, thrown around them ; instead 
of that, what do they everywhere get,, but just such 
lessons as she has reduced to practice. The world can 
be very lenient to moral delinquencies, it will never 


106 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


forgive a ^ last season’s bonnet ’ — to a ^ seedj^ attire, it is 
inexorable. ^iV^here, in all the marts of men, is the 
‘ rusty,’ or even plain, unpretending garb, welcovne^ like 
the ‘ gorgeous apparel ? ’ ” 

“Not here.” 

“ Not in the House of God even, where man, most 
of all, should remember, that he and his fellow man, 
are all, alike, sinful, helpless, worms of the dust, in the 
presence of their Maker. The world, like the Paddy, 
considers the setting, ‘ the very moral of the picture ;’ 
and so in these cases, it condemns in theory (by way ot 
salvo to its own moral sense) and then applauds in 
practice.” 

“ But Mamma, you don’t mean to excuse those who 
make these monstrous matches, entirely ? ” 

“ No, but I pity them, and mean to throw the 
chief blame, where it more justly belongs. People 
may rail, and sneer, as much as they will, they will 
never lack subjects, or occasion, so long as every 
man, woman, and child, brings his own stone to 
the pile, his own rod to the fasces, that is con- 
tinually crushing out the best and purest impulses 
of woman, and driving one class of victims to the 
solitary cells of singleblessedness, another to the sham- 
bles of this unholy, and most disgusting wedlock. 
Never, till purblind casuists, and half-way Moralists 
and Statesmen, do^ what they have never yet dared to 
do — look the whole facts of the case, the actual status 
of w'oman, fully, and fairly in the face. Never, till 
they remember, that it is hers, only to wait and accept, 
or reject — at best, only to select, not to choose; — and 
that rejecting one, from whom she recoils with in- 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


107 


tolerable loathing, is not exactly synonymous, with 
securing another, whom she might prefer. 'Not till 
they recognize the statistical fact, that there exists a 
large, and constantly increasing, number of females, 
who are neither wives, nor mothers, (with others none 
the better, or less helpless, for being so,) but still 
human beings, with the ordinary wants, and weak- 
nesses of humanity, who did not create, and cannot 
destroy themselves, more than others, l^ot till they 
take note, that this class, possesses, on the whole, a fair 
share of feminine abilities, capable of being developed, 
in various ways, for the advancement of human weal ; 
but which, if gauged— as now — by the Procrustean 
measure, denied fitting exercise, and forced into un- 
genial channels, often leave them — with the full con- 
sciousness of undeveloped utilities, amply equivalent 
to their own support — to be cast aside, as a useless 
burden, if not ‘ smoke in the nostrils,’ to community. 
I^ot till they repudiate the selfishness, and meanness^ 
which graduates the price of labor not according to its ’ 
intrinsic value, but the sex of the doer — remember that 
woman is no more than man, a born cook, or Teacher, 
give her more, and more lucrative modes of making 
herself, if need be, pecuniarily independent, without 
loss of ‘ resjpectdbility and quit the consummate folly, 
and puerile weakness, of trying to feed the starving 
thousands, appealing for hread^ in the shape of employ, 
with the mocking taunt, '‘your business is; to make 
GOOD WIVES AND MOTHERS.’ I^ot, till they liave soberly 
and honestly considered, how much of all the whimsies, 
querulousness, and long array of disparaging epithets 
to which spinsterhood is heir, may be no more peculiar 


108 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


to them, than others, of like age, or circumstances ; or 
fairly chargeable, to their own omission, to furnish 
harmless amusement, and occupation, to keep some out 
of mischief ; and scope for action, to others, who must 
always writhe under the galling sense of wrong and 
misappreciation, in being forced into plague spots, or 
dead weights on the body politic, when they might be 
useful, or ornamental. Not till men^ have laid aside 
all flippancies, and considered calmly and impartially, 
whether there might not be, some more of the existing 
avocations, so thrown open to woman, that she should 
neither feel herself, nor be considered, an unwomanly 
intruder into unfeminine spheres ; and if not, set them- 
selves, with all their mighty their clear heads, and 
inventive brain, to devise such as will suffice, for 
the impoverished thousands, that ‘Progress,’ and the 
‘ March of Improvement,’ seem everywhere increasing, 
not diminishing. Not till they see, how inadequate, 
and grievously maladministered, are all the noble 
charities, for which there seems one incessant appeal, 
hecause they have hitherto left too much to woman — 
with her weak arm and %minventive brain — the task, 
of flghting her own way into the already overcrowded 
thoroughfares, or striking out new paths, for herself, 
when half-maddened by want, or stunned, under the 
sudden and appalling weight of her crushing calami- 
ties. 

Oh no, never till they have done all this, will our 
prosy philosophers, and moralizing bores, lack text, or 
occasion, for animadversion on these ‘ Monstrous Mar- 
riages,’ as you well may call them. I believe, as you 
know, that with comfortable provision against future 


Risikg Young men. 


lOD 


want,_a woman will, on the whole, be happier in this 
ife-if tha were all-for dispensini, with marria 
together, when her heart is not in it, and there\ no 
good leason to hope, that it ever will be; though even 
to her 1 IS something to feel, that life’s sweetest founts 

wi/rh’ -d ur: 

h^he f “ and cheerfully, all 

sin Je lil proscription of 

single ife. What then are homilies to the young girl 

whom the winds of heaven, have not hitherto been per- 
nothi "dien she sees, in alternative, 

after in a Potter’s field, 

aftei a weary life of hopeless toil, needlessly embittered 
and infamized, by the slimy scorn, ever dripping, like the 
regular, inevitable drop of cold water on Jlfe brain, said 

tnrel exquisite of all human tor- 

tuie? N-othing-less than nothing-they might as 

stance ’" 

“ Mamma, you don’t suppose, do you, that ‘ the 
Madonna, (an Artist’s name for Mr. Hawthorne’s oak 
ol Dodona,) “and such Ladies as old Miss Warren, ever 
care for all this pitiful nonsense about ‘ old Maids ? ’ ’’ 
“Not now, perhaps never for themselves, Frances, 
i-liey are too strong in social position, so steeled in the 
consciousness (or memory) of personal beauty and men- 
tal, and moral attraction, so steeped to the lips, in the 
i!%need no marriage, to make them 
Ma-^me, (my lady,) “that its equivocal, English 
equivalent,” (Mrs. i. e. Mistress,) “ could add no honor 
to them, only be “honored by their use,” that these 

sliafts of envy, petulance, and trite vapidity— which 
0 


110 


Kisma YOtlXG MEN. 


would like nothing better, than to be witty, and sar- 
castic, if they only could — must fall back, blunted, and 
harmless, from the triple mail of their own deep- toned 
self-respect. But they, and sucli as they, are the more 
mature, the high hearted, and highly gifted few ; and 
the very ones, to feel them, at all times, far less acutely 
for themselves than others, especially the young, who 
are continually writhing under their slow poison. ITo 
man of woman born, ever liked to hear his own sect, 
clique or profession, ridiculed, or denounced by the 
wholesale, keenly sensitive, and indignant, as he may, 
himself, be, touching the weak points, and dark spots 
on its escutcheon — why should they, have less of the 
esprit du corps f ” 

‘‘I should think they ought to have a great deal 
more, when all the others are persecuting them ! ” 

“You have given the deed, the right name, my 
child; but surely the world does not well, to evoke, 
so often, the contemptuous pity of these letter spirits, 
for its own narrow-minded prejudice, weakness and 
thoughtless injustice, its malice and meanness. It 
had better leave them, ‘fancy free,’ to scatter genial 
thoughts around, and follow its own bounding, way- 
ward step, instead, with words of cheer, and thouglits 
of prayer. And for the rest, a curse is no better than 
a blessing, come from what impotence it will. We 
have orators, poets, and novelists at every turn, the 
wrongs of the Hindoo widow, the Kussian serf, and 
Soutliern Slave, are thundered, trumpet«toned, in all our 
ears. Dickens, too, is showing up the short-comings of 
civil polity, and turning the “ whited walls ” of a pseudo 
philanthropy, inside out, with the hand of a master. 


KISINO YOUNG MEN. 


Ill 


Who shall turn back the finger of scorn, that a Christian 
literature, Christian men, and Christian women, alike the 
old, and the young, the wise man and the fool, have kept 
pointing for ages, at those whom the providence of God, 
or the improvidence of man, his weakness, or wickedness, 
have left to breast life’s surges alone? What new Con- 
stantine shall arise to stem the tide, of the Old Maid Per- 
secution ; not for the sake of those, that are, but are to 
be — culled perhaps, from the brightest flowrets in many 
a domestic parterre, where short-sighted Fathers, and 
thoughtless mothers, little dream how their own sneering 
taunts, may one day rankle, like poisoned arrows, in the 
hearts of their listening children. Who shall dare, to 
stand up, and lay the axe to the root, of tliis gigantic 
growth of a double-headed evil? This alarming in- 
crease of a celibacy^ as oppressive in its ‘ masterly in- 
activity,’ to one half its victims, as it is demoralizing 
to the other, on the one hand, and these heartless, un- 
natural, and vicious marriages^ on the other.” 

‘‘ Mrs. Sigourney ! Where is she ? A stroke from 
her, would tell ! ” 

‘‘True, and where are all our clear-headed states- 
men, our eloquent Divines, our Christian Fathers, of tlie 
noble soul, and lofty intellect? Are they all alike, 

‘ without natural affection,’ have they forgotten, that 
he who fTOvideth not for they of his own house ^ hath de- 
nied the faith^ and is worse than an infidel f Will no 
one, ponder on all this, till his own heart is stirred, to 
its inmost depths, and his burning thoughts and mighty 
words ring out in clarion tones, all over the land, till 
the whole heart of humanity is aroused to the wrong 
and the sin, of this parental injustice ? This living — in 


112 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


a style befitting an inalienable, princely income — as if 
man had a life-lease of health, and efficiency ; and ' 
death, and mutation, were myths of Lunacy ! This 
bringing daughters into the world, and rearing them in 
Oriental helplessness, and the craving thirst for sybarite 
indulgence, with nothing, perhaps, between them and 
beggary, but the turn of a political chess-board, or the 
snapping asunder of one, frail, human breath — not even 
the temporary shield, it may be, of a little Life Insur- 
ance, to save them a retreat to the Almshouse, the 
taking the veil, in some lay cloister, or succumbing 
to a legalized pollution, in the harem of some old 
sensualist. Oh, my heart aches, for these spoiled chil- 
dren of present luxury — these victims, garlanded for 
the sacrifice, by parents, so weakly indulgent in trifles, 
so utterly destitute of even the brute instinct, that 
would dictate some provision for their future welfare. 
As Grod is my witness, I believe such children owe 
their parents, a curse, not a blessing, for the existence 
forced upon them, and so formed and shaped to misery. 
If some escape, no thanks to them, and the female in- 
fanticide of the Orientals, is mercy, to this inhuinan 
cruelty, of Christian parents, in civilized lands. 

"What your Father might think, I cannot tell, but Z, 
cannot help holding the sophistical rant, with which we 
set out on our national career, and have ever since been 
vainly trying to live into sober truth, somewhat re- 
sponsible for all this ; for with the ^ self-evident^ fact, on 
the one hand, that all men arenot^ ‘free and equal,’ and 
the official declaration, on the other, that they are^ 
people must of course owe it to themselves, to go to 
work and make themselves so, as nearly as they can, in 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


113 


externals, at least. Poor, foolish, ranting visionaries ! 
As if INEQUALITY, Were not everywhere, the common 
law of iSature, or they could any more annul it, than 
all women could make themselves the same height, by 
purchasing the same number of yards, for a dress pat- 
tern. And if, as ’tis said, ‘ whom the gods will to de- 
stroy they first make mad,’ the ‘ premonitory symp-' 
toms ’ of destruction, are upon us j for never was a 
whole people, so madly given to the insane folly of dis- 
play, so reckless as to consequence. The Idea^ were to 
be sure, full four centuries behind the times, and the 
thing itself, wholly impracticable; but never did the 
parents of a nation need the wholesome despotism, of 
stringent sumptuary laws, for the sake of its children, 
half so palpably as ours. Another long Lecture, Fran- 
ces, but I hope you are not weary.” 

“ More sad, than ‘ we^ry,’ Mamma ; but about those 
Sumptuary Laws — don’t you think, that if our rulers 
were cunning, and got them properly illustrated, and 
promulgated by a French Milliner, they might be pret- 
ty generally enforced ? ” 

“Ah, there’s no telling what that potency, might 
not do; but to return — Your ‘Incognito^ has not strip- 
ped you, of your youth, beauty, or even rank, Frances, 
for all men, are not so ignorant, as your patronizing 
friend, the Marriage Broker. And if they were, you 
are here, as my niece, not mere nameless, protege^ com- 
ing from no one knows where ; but you see, that if ac- 
tually poor, you would, in slU probability, have to 
choose between not marrying, or taking some old 
dotard with his money bags, some Young Artist with 
his poverty, (which would be none the less, for your 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


114 

sliaring it,) or the hazardous experiment of obtruding 
on some family, who might, or might not, receive you ; 
by eloping with some beardless youth, who had yet to 
take his first lesson in worldly wisdom, or the self- 
denial, necessary to a manly independence. For the 
rest, their want of beauty is easily satisfied — a soft 
skin, no matter what shade, and an insipid, unmeaning 
simper, indicating about half a grain of sense, make 
up the beau ideal^ of most men, from five and twenty, 
to fifty.” 

“ And is that the reason they all call that poor little 
idiot, Julia Le, Grand, ‘so pretty?’ I thought it was 
only because she was rich, for I am sure it must dis- 
tress any one to look at her, with her yellow hair lying 
as still as if she was dead, and her face and eyes look- 
ing as if they were dead too.” 

“ You shouldn’t call her an ‘ idiot,’ my dear, though 
she evidently is, a good deal below par ; but her health, 
it is said, has always been bad, and it may be, that her 
faculties are dormant, rather, than deficient.” 

“ Oh, I wouldn’t Mamma, to any one else ; but I 
am very glad to be done with ‘ adventures.’ It really 
makes me feel ashamed, to see such old grand- 
daddy making such fools of themselves. And I 
can’t help feeling sorry for their children too; how 
should I feel, to think of having to call some little girl, 
like Harriet Watson or Ellen Le Hoir, ‘ Mother?^ ” 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


115 


CHAPTER V. 

I 

Be tlie other accomplishments of our Incognito^ 
what they might, she certainly was not gifted with 
second sight, when she talked of being done with “ Ad- 
ventures.” True, she had no more ‘‘ flourishing widow- 
ers,” or cynical old bachelors, to discard — we don’t 
allude to Mr. Hawthorne, of whose overtures she was 
never apprised — but the lapse of a few days, saw both 
her mother, and self, collaterally engaged, in a much 
more serious affair. 

She, and some ten, or twelve others, of all ages 
from five to twenty, were returning from a rather long 
walk, when they were intercepted by a handsome 
Barouche and pair, which, (it may be as well to state 
here as elsewhere,) had been borrowed of the Driver, 
for a Consideration^'^ without the knowledge and 
consent of the owner. It was occupied by Two distin- 
guished Members of the “ Foreign Corps.” Humber 
One, figuring as a Southern Planter, from some State, 
which happened not to be represented at Congress Hall 
that particular Season ; and rejoicing in the aristocratic 
cognomen, of Algernon Augustus Charlemont. Hum- 
ber Two (we beg his pardon for having forgotten his 
particular vocation) answering to the equally eupho- 
nious patronymic of Theodore Stanhope Templeton. 
Simultaneously with the approach of the Barouche, a 
dashing Buggy drove up from an opposite point of the 


116 


RISma YOUNG MEN. 


compass ; the driver was instantly signalled, and after 
some little parley, readily agreed to turn his horse’s 
head in another direction. The veracity of an honest 
historian, compels us to state, that he was hailed as 
‘‘Tom;” a vulgar sobriquet, much at variance with 
the elegant patois of the exquisite Mr. Falkner, who 
was ‘ doing ^ a West Indian Creole, at the precise date 
to which we refer. 

“Beautiful Evening, Ladies — won’t you ride?” 

“ Yes,” “ Yes,” “ Yes “ No,” “ No,” “ No,” rejoin- 
ed Two, or Three, of the elder ladies, who would liave 
treated the impertinence with silent contempt, had not 
their younger sisters thoughtlessly accepted the invita- 
tion. Number One, was instantly on the ground, and 
his hand extended apparently to whoever might choose 
to take it — “ Sorry we can’t take you all. Ladies ; but 
Falkner there, will take one, and we can accommodate 
Two or Three ’’^ — “ Sar-tain-inont Ladees^ vid all de 
flai-sair e-mag-in-d-'ble^'' and No. Three, was also ex- 
tending liis hand, to assist some one into the Buggy. 

The invitation of the eye, was at first adroitly given 
to those who had said ‘ No ;’ but somehow it happened, 
that Three Misses of Fourteen, or Fifteen, were at last 
selected for the drive. 

“No Ellen;” said Miss Le Noir, the oldest of the 
party, and daughter of a wealthy widow, with only 
these Two children ; “ it is mry impro'per^ you know 
Mother would not approve of it, and you must not go.” . 
Here No. Three interposed, but she paid no attention i 
to him. “ If any body rides, let it be these little j 
children; it will not make so much difference about j 
them.” “ Oh I will go,” said Ellen, but the tone ini- 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


117 


plied a suspicion of her own ability to make good the 
assertion. I7o, you will not, come^'^ offering her 
hand, and the seat in the Buggy was immediately, 
though reluctantly relinquished. 

“ Do you hear that? ” said Cornelia "Weston to her 
sister, who had been foremost in accepting the invita- 
tion, and now stood listening to Miss Le jN’oir, with 
one foot on the step, and her hand in that of ISTo. One, 
— “ Do you hear that ? What is so imjprojper for Ellen 
Le l^oir, cannot be proper for Ellen Weston — Don’t 
go!” 

I shall,” (there was no indecision here :) “ where’s 
the harm ?” “ Sure enough,” said 'No. One, but Ellen 

went on — “ You’re such an old prude,” (her sister was 
just Eighteen,) ‘‘you are always making a fuss about 
nothing ! ” 

“But Ellen, Father will be so vexed, and Mother 
so angry — ” 

“ Don’t preach to me ! Don’t I know Father’s 
deep in Politics with that old fright of a Cinnamon ? 
You’d better go and set your cap for him ! ” 

“ But Ellen—” 

“ I tell 3 ^ou I will go. I haven’t rode to-day ; and 
this is a Barouche too ! ” 

“ You shall ride all the rest of the week, if you 
wont go. If any accident happens, the whole blame 
will be laid upon you, for Julia Le Grand,” who was 
already seated, “ looks the child that she is,” (scarce 
Fourteen and badly grown,) “ and besides, you know 
that if you didn’t go, she wouldn’t.” 

“ 1 say.) ‘ ride all the week,’ when you know 
Mother’s everlastingly, got some friskey Avidow, jr 


ns 


KISING YOUNG MEN. 


other, stuffed into the old arh j and you, and Father 
are eternally hunting up some poor, good-for-nothing 
old maid, or sick child, so that I never can go, scarce 
any at all ! ” 

“ Ellen this isn’t fair — you know I always do give 
up my seat to you, unless Father objects ; but donH go 
now^'^ gently drawing her sister toward herself. “ I 
tell you I will,” jerking away her hand, and stepping 
in; “so just mind your own business! You needn’t 
think to come Louise Le ISToir over me ! I never can 
have any fun, but you are ready to make a great bug- 
a-boo about it ! ” 

“ Certainly Miss Ellen, your sister is very unneces- 
sarily alarmed; we shall be back before your Father 
has settled the next new cabinet.” 

“ And Mother’ll never think of me, or anything else 
while that game of chess lasts, if you don’t Idlah — drive 
on.” 

“ Cornelia — Miss Weston 1 ” 

“ Willielmine^'‘ and both looked as if there was 
something, which neither liked to say. At length the 
former exclaimed, “ Oh I’m afraid there’s something 
wrong.” 

“ I am sure there is. You didn’t see the looks he ” 
(No. One) “ gave you when you were trying to coax 
Ellen away.” Both now involuntarily quickened their 
pace, and soon passed the residue of the party who 
were slightly in advance. 

“ Mother, I have something to tell you.” 

The lady so addressed was deep in the important mys- 
teries of chess, and shook her head, and waved her 
hand to ward off interruption. “ I mustf said the 


KISING YOUNG MEN. 


119 


speaker, and there was such stern earnestness, in the 
word and tone so unusual for Cornelia Weston to use, 
that her mother looked up into her face, now pale with 
aftright, and immediately rose and left the room. 

“But why did you let her go?” enquired Mrs. 
Weston, when apprised of the facts. 

“ I couldn’t help it.” 

“ Louise Le IToir, could help her sister from going; 
but I don’t see what Ellen WestoEs sister is good for, 
only to lead her into scrapes, and then come croaking 
in my ear like an old raven, enough to frighten one 
into Hysterics.” 

“ If Ellen Le JSFoir was allowed to domineer over 
her sister at home^ she would hardly yield to her 
abroad.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” said the mother angrily. 

“ I mean, that I cannot control her, so long as it’s 
Ellen to go, Ellen to choose, Ellen to decide in every 
thing ! ” 

“ Cornelia Weston 

“ Mother, it is no time to choose phrases — some- 
thing must be done ! ” 

“ Go to your room, and stay there, till you can learn 
to address your mother with propriety ; and mind you 
say nothing, of this foolish affair to your Father.” 

“ Mother, I micst tell him.” 

“ Do as I bid you,” and Mrs. Weston turned to her 
game, apprehensive that the interruption, might give 
her Adversary a serious advantage. 

“ Oh, what shall I do ? I am sure there is some- 
thing wrong ! ” 

“ Yes, Cornelia, there is something xorong. You 


120 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


know I was looking on, while yon were talking, and 
that fellow in the Buggy looked as if he could have 
killed Miss Le l^oir on the spot, for taking Ellen away 
from him. And he never asked any of the children to 
ride either; and the others had to coax him to go, 
though he was so much delighted at first, telling him, 
‘ hetter Inch next time? I don’t see why a little girl’s 
not riding with him, when she wasn’t acquainted, and 
her sister objected, should have discomposed him so 
much, if every thing was so accidental, as it seemed. 
And do you know the direction they took?” Miss 
Weston shook her head and Wilhelmine stepping close 
to her side, pronounced in a low thrilling tone the 
ominous words,” Gretna Green?'* 

I knew it! I Tcnew it — Oh my Father, my poor 
sister ; what shall I do — ” and she wrung her hands in 
agony. 

Mount and follow pointing to some horses from 
which her mother. Miss Emma Lawrence, and Mr. 
Hawthorne were just dismounting, “ and I will send 
your Father after you, if he is above ground.” Play- 
fully taking her mother’s riding-whip from her hand as 
she passed on, and putting it into that of Cornelia as 
she sprang into the saddle, she exclaimed, There ride 
rideiov your life, and mind, a double track. Oh it’s 
nothing, only she wants to give her Father a race to 
overtake her added she as the servant came forward 
to take the horses. ‘‘ Oh, very well Miss, then I’ll just 
change the saddle—” (Mrs. Lenox had ridden Mr 
Weston’s horse That’s right, and then tell him, 
Mrs. Lenox wants to see him, immediately.” 

“ Is that Cornelia Weston ? ” 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


121 


“ Oh Mother,” (it was w^ell for the incognito that 
the promenades were deserted,) “ I am so glad yon are 
come.” 

^ Why what ails the girl % I never knew her guilty 
of such a freak ! Call her back — Mr. Hawthorne ! ” 

“ Why child are you gone distracted % Let me go, 
and send some one after Cornelia.” 

“No — ^no — let her go — Please tell Mr. Weston I 
have a message for him,” added she as Mr. Hawthorne 
turned back in obedience to the summons.” 

“No — no— Mamma,” still hurrying her on, “ iVh- 
lody but her Father? Her sister is gone off in strange 
company, and she’s in pursuit.” 

“Tell me all about it Frances,” said Mrs. Lenox, 
becoming instantly composed. 

“ You remember that tall whiskerando, that used 
to make such magnificent bows to me, when we first 
came ; well he and One or Two more just like him, 
have taken Ellen Weston, and Julia Le Grand off to 
ride ; and would have taken Ellen Le Noir too, if her 
sister hadn’t forced hereaway ; and you know they are 
all rich, and they have gone towards ‘ the Devil’s Den,’ 
and Mr. Hawthorne told us,” (Cornelia and herself,) 
“ one day, that, ‘ that was a sort of Gretna-Green, but 
w^e mustn’t tell of it, because our Papas and Mammas 
would be terribly frightened, if they were to hear that 
ominous word.’ ” 

“ Does Mrs. Weston know anything of this? ” 

“ She might know, for when Cornelia could not 
find her Father, she told her ; and she insulted her, be- 
cause she couldn’t keep the little vixen from going, 
told her not to tell her Father, and went back to chess. 

0 


122 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


I wouldn’t care for if Ellen had run away, but I’ll 
tell her Father ! 

Her Father is here to listen,” exclaimed Mr. 
Weston, throwing open the door without the slightest 
ceremony, as the words Ellen and run away fell on his 
ear. 

“Ho time for explanations Mr. Weston, follow 
your slaughters,” said Mrs. Lenox, as she drew him to 
a window and pointed out their course. “ Hot so had 
perhaps as we fear, hut circumstances are very suspi- 
cious.” Mr. Weston needed no second admonition, 
and long before the fugitives had reached their desti- 
nation, the Father as well as sister, was on their track. 

Aside from the energetic measures of Frances, this 
was principally owing to the character of the latter half 
of the road, which being obscure, little used, and con- 
sequently neglected, was but indifferently adapted to 
carriages. And indeed it was not inappropriate, that 
the seemingly inviting, shady lane, terminating in such 
an ultimatum, should resemble in every thing but 
widths those paths “ All broad and winding and aslope, 
all tempting with perfidious hope, all ending in de- 
spair.” The Pursuers had also another advantage, 
arising from the w^ant of a proper understanding be- 
tween those enterprising individuals Hos. One, Two, 
and Three, and their intended victims ; one of whom 
was a mere infant in intellect, and the other, guilty of 
nothing worse than an inordinate love of fun ” and a 
headstrong determination to have her own way. This, 
of course, somewhat retarded their fiight; but the 
worthies made good use of their time, telling facetious 
tales, and anecdotes, all tending to glorify spirited 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


123 


young ladies, and ridicule prudish relations. When 
this amusement began to flag, it was suggested, all on 
the spur of the moment, what fun;'’ it would he ; 

for such refined, elegant, people as themselves, to call 
at the little Dutch Tavern just ahead, order every thing 
they didn’t want, and quiz the “goed vrow,” and her 
strapping daughters, who, it was averred, would not 
underetand a word they said. Of couree it would bo 
very charming; and while they are enjoying this 
amiable divereion, in anticipation, let us go on, and re- 

connoitre. ^ i • ivr - 

The first object that arrested attention, at his Majos- 

ty’s Head Quarters— for such, the only dwelling visible 
in the Devil’s Den, had a most undoubted right to be 
called— was a low, heavy, gallows-looking frame, which 
once supported a sign, intimating, that “ entertainment 
for man and beast,” might be found here. It was 
“tottering to its fall,” but still stood; a memento 
to those nem frequenting the place, of their probable 
fate The vicinity of higher elevations, created the im- 
pression, that the “Den,” was located at the bottom of 
a glen, but such was not the fact. It occupied a rise of 
o-round, quite sufficient to give full scope to that style 
of architecture, which takes one by surprise, when he 
finds a building but one story in front, to be two in the 
rear. From the settings forth of some fanciful red let- 
ters, that seemed dancing a Highland Eeel on t le, m 
Z'amt, whitewashed wall, it appeared that the house 
had not entirely foregone its pretensions to a public 
character though scarce half-a-dozen rounds now le- 

tl.. .hi* in iX fix « 

had surrounded a “ stoop,” of no ordinary pretensions. 


124 : 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


And that invariable apj)endage of a Dutch Domicil, it- 
self, seemed half inclined to part company with its an- 
cient crony ; a disgraceful fact, which one end of a 
bench, on the most popular side of the house, had evi- 
dently fallen down to conceal, while the opposite com- 
peer, proudly maintained its own elevation, though all 
its faithless props had fallen away from their allegiance. 

A door, intersected so as to admit of opening the 
upper, or lower, dexter or sinister valves, as occasion 
might require, introduced you into the vestibule, or ante- 
room, which extended about half across the demi-area 
of the building. In the farther corner, stood a boxy 
looking grate, furnished with two or three dusty bottles, 
which at once identified this apartment as the bar. Op- 
posite the door already mentioned, another less elabo- 
rate in construction, evidently led through the ofiaces 
in the basement, to the open air, as there was no other 
mode of egress, on that side the house. Between the 
two, and a little to the left of both, was another about 
two-thirds the usual height, wfith an orifice at the top 
intended for, if not originally occupied by, a window- 
sash of a semicircular form ; and fastening with a huge, 
square, old-fashioned brass lock, on the eighteen feet 
twenty, comprising the residue of the first floor. The 
most distinctive feature of this Parlour (for that was its 
ambitious appellative,) was an immense fire-place, with 
its high, quaint “ mantel,” ornamented with an old wood- 
en clock, long since defunct. Between this and the rear 
window, was something concealed by a curtain ; but we 
have our suspicions, that it was neither more nor less, 
than one of those ancient, folding beds, which so oblig- 
ingly tuck themselves up against the wall, when not in 


Risma YOUKG MEN. 


125 


use. The space on the opposite side, was filled with a 
‘‘ Dresser,’’ that is a broad shelf, imbedded, in this in- 
stance, like a deep window-sill, in the wall. 

All impromptu as was the visit of our fugitives to 
themselves^ it seemed not to have been wholly unex- 
pected by others. The fire-place aforesaid, was filled 
with very fresh green boughs, the dresser, covered with 
clean white drapery — of very ancient and complicate 
, pattern, evincing l^iait iSvhad long been reserved for 
great occasions — and furnished with a large, rusty old 
waiter, containing a bottle and decanter, or two of 
wine, and cordial, and half-a-dozen tumblers, and wine- 
glasses of various sizes. Four or five rickety chairs, 
nicely dusted, were disposed about the room ; a muti- 
lated settee, or rude apology for a sofa-frame, was care- 
fully propped against the ceiling under the front win- 
dow's, and no pains had been spared, to erase, from the 
floor the trace of many a midnight orgy, still disgust- 
ingly conspicuous on the wall. But unluckily for the 
quizzing operation, every human being, with the ex- 
ception of the supposed Landlord, had evacuated the 
premises, so that our party had to throw themselves on 
their own resources, “ while resting and recruiting after 
their long rough ride,” for wdiich of course every apol- 
ogy w'as made. 


“ This is a bad business Frances,” said Mrs. Lenox, 
after making her, recapitulate every minutiae of the 
affair, as soon as Mr. AVeston left. 

‘‘ Didn’t Cornelia do right to go mamma ?” 


126 


KISING YOUNG MEN. 


“Yes, my child, God grant she may net be too late. 
But watch for the carriage dear, while I get off this 
long dress ; I think Mrs. Morrison will he back soon.” 

“ Why you are not going to leave me too, mamma ? ” 

“Yes, Frances, their mother is no earthly use, and 
Mr. Weston will never suffer his daughters to come 
back in that company, if” — but she could not go on. 
“ At all events, I must go and bring back Cornelia,” 
(here she stopped, and busied, herself putting up salts, 
Hungary water etc. ;) “and mind Frances, if Mrs. Le 
Grand gets uneasy about Julia, tell her, that she, and 
Ellen, and Cornelia, went on beyond the rest of the 
party ; but that I am driving that way,. and will bring 
them back.” 

“ Oh I don’t think she would care much, for she 
knows that very little of the money would come to her 
children any way ; and the poor thing is so sickly, and 
she, has so many Darlings of her own to look after, I 
shouldn’t much wonder, if she were glad to have her 
off her hands.” 

“ Yery likely, but then she would make none the 
less /im, for that you know.” 

“Ho mamma — and ihat^s just what she and Mrs. 
Weston both, will be good for, I expect.” 

“ Are your horses fresh John ? ” 

“ They’ll take you to the end of the world madam 
— which way ? ” 

“ On — and now, follow a Barouche, and move while 
you have a good road.” 

“ Any thing happened, madam ? ” 

“ Hothing v^orse, I hope, than some young ladies 
liaving gone oiit, in very improper company.” 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


127 


“ And that’s bad enough, madam, young ladies has 
got no business, going out in that same company — I’d 
like to see Miss Frances now, going out with any of 
TRIM sort o’ chaps ! ” 

It would be more my fault than hers, if she did, 
John ; but mind your track.” In a few minutes John 
reined up, and with the tone of one giving new and 
startling information, exclaimed, ‘‘To the Devil’s Den, 
madam I Illigant road now, isn’t it, for a drive ? And 
a nice place that, is the Devil’s Den ; for a young lady 
to frolic in ! ” 

“What do you know of the place John?” 

“ I don’t know, no good of it madam ! They do say, 
as how there was a man murdered there in the old 
time ; and the country people as don’t live there, are 
afraid to go by, at night, because you see, madam — ” 

“Never mind John,” said the lady comprehending 
at once, that it had been long, though not extensively 
known, as a resort for the worst characters of the worst 
description ; “ but what are you stopping for?” 

“ Here’s a white Pockethandkerchief tromped in the 
mud, and yonder is another caught in a bush — shall I 
stop and get them ? ” 

“ Stop for nothing, we are on the right track, drive ! ” 

“ If you j)lease Madam, you had better take the 
front seat, it wont jolt so much.” 

“ Never mind the jolting, — on — on ! ” Mrs. Lenox 
had judged, and correctly, that the sight of the first, had 
reminded Cornelia, to throw down her own handker- 
chief, to mark the trail more distinctly. Her Father 
was still in sight, and the thought of her unprotected 
situation, among a band of desperadoes perhaps, took 


128 


EISING YOUNG MEN. 


precedence, for the time, of every other. But Cornelia 
Weston had no fears for herself. Like most of the gal- 
lant and graceful Kentuckians, she was an able and ac- 
complished equestrian ; and once on horse, her self- 
possession was soon restored ; and she had need ot it 
all. Fifteen or twenty minutes before her arrival, but 
not till after wine and flattery had freely circulated, it 
occurred (quite cdsually of course) that some one hap- 
pened to recur, to the fright of Miss Weston^ and 
the ^‘Airs of Miss Le Noir neither ot whom it was 
aflirmed, could have made “more ado, it the whole 
party had been running away to get married ! ” One 
idea suggests another, so it is no wise remarkable, that 
just at this particular instant, it should strike another 
of the party ; “ wdiat a capital frolic it would be, to go 
through a mock ceremony and then go back, and 
frighten them both out of their senses, pretending it 
was true.” 

“Ah, mar voi it would be, one — one^ vot you call 
var fine zhook,” said Ko. Three, “ but where is Moun- 
sheer ^ the Parsone f ” This was a poser ; but your men 
of expedients, are not to be balked by trifles, so they 
proposed elevating him to the Cassock. This how^ever 
he declined on account of his imperfect English, but 
offered to officiate as groom, if either of the others 
would accept Orders. After a good deal of parley, it 
was at length concluded to shift the canonicals, on to 
Boniface, wdio “ wmuld do any thing to amuse his guests, 
but didn’t think he could recollect enough of the cere- 
mony to officiate.” His objections were however, final- 
ly overruled, himself duly installed (book in hand) near 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


129 


the centre of the room, and the ‘‘ guests” ranged around 
in the following order — ^To wit “ Jilted Tom,” reclin- 
ing in a very picturesque attitude, against one corner 
ot the mantel-piece, so as to command the view from 
tlie front windows ; next him, stood JSTo. Two and Miss 
Julia Le Grand, and between them and the door, and 
nearly opposite to the pretended Parson’s right hand, 
ISTo. One, with Miss Ellen Weston, at his left. After 
some affected stammering and blunders, the ceremony 
was recommenced, and went on very smoothly through 
the first part, at this crisis Cornelia Weston, who had 
prudently dismounted at a little distance, tripped light- 
ly into the Bar and laid her hand lightly on the latch, 
with the air of one perfectly at home. To the confir- 
mation of her worst fears she found it locked. Calmly 
as she could, she rapped ; and there was probably some 
demonstration of an intention to open, for JS'o. One, ex- 
claimed, “ No — we are very well content with our own 
good company — go on sir ! ” Another voice resumed, 
“And you Ellen Weston, and you Julia Le Grand, 
promM ^ — quick as thought, Cornelia’s hand was on 
top of the door, her slender foot planted firmly on the 
square brass lock, and the next moment she had sprung 
through the open orifice into the room. “ Wo I I for- 
hid the hanns both of and before any one recov- 

ered from the shock of her startling appearance, she 
had wrenched the hands of both, from the villains that 
held them. Ellen was the first to rally — “ Do^ CornelV 
— I wish you wouldn’t always be making such a fool ot 
yourself ! ” 

“ Oh Ellen, how could you — hoio could youf^^ 


130 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


“How could I what? You don’t know what you 
are talking about — to come here, like something mad, 
and make such a fuss for nothing ! ” 

“ Ellen, it’s for your life ! ” 

“ If ever I did see^ such a fool — to make such a scene 
— and all for a little frolic ! ” 

“ Sartain-mont, Miss Ellen, it’s 'cary ahsoord to 
make such scan-dale^ for one leetle zhest.” 

“ Nothing but a joke, there’s no occasion to be 
alarmed Miss,” put in No. One, who had again taken 
Ellen’s hand. 

“ Ellen, I tell you it’s no jest — Gentlemen don’t jest 
thus, under lock and key ! ” 

“ Nor Ladies either, I suppose Miss,” returned the 
miscreant, hoping to elicit some answer that would 
rouse Ellen into detiance. 

“ No ! but children sometimes may.” 

“ Much a lady^ as you Miss — and I’ll do as I please ! ” 
“ That’s right — it’s all ajest^ if you please, let us go 
on.” 

“ No sir — you shall not go on ! ” 

“ What right have you got, to interfere? I reckon 
I can do as I choose, for all you.^'‘ 

“ Sure enough,” sneered No. One, “ is she your 
guardian?” 

“ I am her sister, her older sister, and I will not suf- 
fer it.” 

“ Do you think I am going to be stopped, by you ? ” 
“ Ellen, Ellen, I tell you again, it is no jest — that 
man,” (pointing to the mock Parson,) is a magistrate-— 
I know it, go on, and you are as fast wedded to misery 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


131 


and degradation, as poverty and infamy can bind 
you.” 

“ It’s none of your business, if it isn’t a jest.” 

“ ISTot the least in the world — go on sir ! ” 

‘‘You Ellen ” 

“ Stop STOP ! Thinh^ if these wretches can pay so 
liberally, for their ruin, what her Father” (pointing to 
Ellen) “ would give to save her from destruction.” 

“ He’ll give you nothing but a kick on the crupper, 
go on I say.” . 

“ And I say, he shall not I ” 

“ Wait till you’re asked — I’ll let you know, I’m not 
going to be ruled by you ! ” 

“ Oh Ellen — Ellen, think if you do go on, you hav^e 
looked your last, on the Father and Mother that have 
loved you so dearly. For well, well do I know, that 
our Father w^ould never acknowledge the daughter, that 
dishonored his name, or reward the villain that de- 
stroyed his child ! ” 

“ Your sister is very complimentary Miss Ellen,” 
said Ho. One, a little staggered, but Ellen’s scornful 
laugh reassured him. 

“Hone of your blarney, — don’t Yknow better than 
that? Don’t I know, I can make mother do whatever 
Y choose ? ” 

“But not Father, and he’ll soon be here, — and 
then—” 

“ Go on, ^(9 on — we are losing time.” 

“ You Ellen— ” 

“ Stop ! ” For a moment, the pitiful wretch quailed 
before the flashing eye, and stamping foot of the excited 
girl ; but at some signal, he commenced again, “You” 


132 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


— in nn instant the book was snatched from his hand 
and hurled into the street. 

‘‘ 'No consequence — go on sir. Form is immaterial ; 
promise before witnesses, all that is necessary. Happy 
to have the honour of your presence to corroborate our 
marriage Miss Weston — known you wished to come, my 
friend Tom, here, would have given you a seat in his 
Buggy. Two very good witnesses,” simpered ISTo. One, 
with a demoniac sneer, — ‘‘Begin sir! ” 

“YouEl— ” 

“Hever — HEYEK — never^^ — and with lightning 
swiftness the determined girl threw herself upon her 
sister and bore her back to the settee under the open 
window. Fortunately she succeeded in forcing her 
arms under her, before she recovered sufficient presence 
of mind to resist : for under all ordinary circumstances, 
the enraged child, would have been much more than a 
match, for her less hardy sister. 

“ Joining of hands, is nothing f exclaimed the 
would be husband, finding it impossible to recover that 
of Ellen, “ Promise, is all ! ” 

“ You Ellen^” 

“ Father ! — Father — Father I ” 

“Weston — ” 

“ Murder — murder ! — murder ! ” 

“ I say Tom, take this incarnate fury ofiT my wife ; 
I’ll be hanged, if I’ll be foiled this way by a woman ! ” 
But “ Tom,” having nothing but his precious self at 
stake, not coveting a rencontre with the said “ Father,” 
and hearing, or fancying he heard the distant tramp of 
a horse contrived, notwithstanding his Creole extrac- 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


138 


tion, to achieve a very good English damme^'^ and 
slip himself quietly out of the back window. Nor was 
he mistaken, Cornelia’s wild and piercing screams, had 
rung out with appalling shrillness on the still air of that 
summer evening, and if Mr. Weston rode before, now, 
\\Q flew : — But in the fearful strife of human passion, 
his approach was unheeded^ — there was invincible ob- 
stinacy, determined to rule, avarice, clinging with a 
death grasp to its prey ; and the frantic energy of des- 
peration, grappling in phrensied struggle with a sister^ 
resolved to rescue or die. But this could not last — the 
screams waxed fainter, and fainter, mingled with cries 
of, '‘Let me go,” "Promise,” "never,” "I will,” as 
Mr. Weston dashed into the house. 

" Open the door, or by the God that made you, I 
will send you to his bar ! ” In the stupefaction of the 
moment, his threat was disregarded, the next, he had 
thrown his horse back on his haunches, and then pre- 
cipitated the whole weight of the powerful animal, on 
the door ; and horse and master literally entered the 
room together. 


" Quick John, throw me the whip and reins, never 
mind the steps, but take the horses from that Barouche, 
and be back instantly.” Accident had caused a slight 
detention to Mr. Weston, Mrs. Lenox was consequently, 
but little behind ; and advancing to the now open door, 
took in at one rapid glance, a bird’s eye view of the 
whole scene ; as the disappointed swindler, turned, not 
like a " baited bull, or lion caught in the toils,” but 
with the air of a detected cur, to confront the infuriated 


134 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


Father. On one side, just out of reach of the fallen 
door, stood the petrified ‘‘ Parson,” riveted to the spot 
by mortal fear, and pure astonishment ; on the other 
Ko. Two, encumbered with the care of his intended 
bride. It was long before the obtuse perceptions of 
Julia Le Grand, enabled her to see clearly the immi- 
nent peril of her position, and when she did so, having 
neither mental nor physical strength to extricate her- 
self, she sunk helplessly into the arms of a villain, and 
only recovered from one long, death-like swoon, to re- 
lapse into another. A little farther on, stood his more 
prominent coadjutor, wdio had neglected the favorable 
moment, though he now seemed anxious^ to secure q, 
retreat. He looked toward the natural egress, but 
there with fiery eye, and distended nostril, stood a tre- 
mendous black horse, covered with foam ; his foot paw- 
ing the fallen door, as if guarding the pass with almost 
human sagacity ; and between him and that doubtful 
chance of safety, ‘‘ An angry father.” 

For one moment, Mr. Weston surveyed the cower- 
ing wretch with withering contempt, as if he recoiled 
from contact with aught so base ; another, and the hon- 
orable Algernon Augustus, was in the hands of a giant. 
The fiash of a sword-cane blinded his vision, as it rained 
down blows thick and fast on his back and shoulders, 
a grasp of iron was at his throat, and somehow, he felt 
himself, without any volition of his own, crossing the 
apartment, to the rear. ‘‘There,” administering the 
same touching memento, predicted to the “ Parson,” 
“ take that, and that, and that for a Father’s blessing, 
and now^'^ bundling him out of the window, and apply- 
ing with the heel of his boot, another onward impulse, 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


135 


that sent him full fifteen feet in the rear — hegone sir, 
and marh me, if ever I catch you, attempting to show 
your rascally face among gentlemen again, I’ll have 
you arrested for stealing that Barouche. A man may 
be robbed of his daughters, but thank God, the Lavj 
cares for his horses ! Cornelia, my brave girl — my 
God, she is dead ” exclaimed he, detaching her hastily 
from the unloving embrace of her sister. 

‘‘Ho danger of that ^ hell-caV -breed, muttered Ho. 
Two, intimating to the “Parson,” at the same time, 
though rather by looks than words, that it would 
be prudent to withdraw their forces, and conclude the 
ceremony elsewhere. — “ ‘ Silence gives consent,’ you 
know.” In obedience to this suggestion, both worthies, 
favoured by Mr. Weston’s preoccupation, sought to 
retire ; “But here is an ugly customer,” said Ho. Two. 
The black horse had given place at Mrs. Lenox’s, 
“ S-o-o Conrad, s-o-o,” as she laid her hand on his mane, 
and turned his head toward the Bar, which he seemed 
to take for a crib ; and to the surprise of the recreants, 
his place was now occupied by a noble looking woman, 
witli a large carriage- whip in one hand; her fine figure 
drawn up to its full height, and her whole bearing in- 
dicative of deep and concentrated energy, but not the 
slightest intention, of yielding the pass to any living 
mortal. Ho. Two, felt the necessity of conciliation ; — • 
“ We will thank you to let us pass. Madam ! ” 

“ Bach ” — said the Lady, in that deep stern tone, 
from which one feels that there is no appeal ; — “ back 
you pass not here. Wretch, give that child to me” — 
seeing that Julia had again relapsed, “ don’t you know, 
there is danger in such a fit as that ? ” 


136 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


“ She is my wife, madam, I am taking her to the 
open air.” 

“ Liar,” said a new voice at the outer door, and the 
soi-disant husband, apprehensive that each moment 
might bring fresh reinforcements to the adverse party, 
now attempted to rush past Mrs. Lenox, with his prize. 
The next instant a long lash was tingling on his cheek, 
and the “ Parson,” endeavouring to uncoil it, with one 
hand from his own neck, and secure it wdth the other. 
In such close proximity it was rather an incumbrance 
than otherwise, and no elfort was made to recover it, 
but the next sortie was met by a well-directed blow on 
the Temple, from the heavily loaded stock, and Mr. 
•Stanhope Templeton measured his length on the floor. 
“ See that no one escapes John,” said Mrs. Lenox as 
she gathered up the fallen Julia, and by the aid of Mr. 
Weston, who had but just detected any signs of return- 
ing life, in his own daughter, conveyed her to the settee. 

“ Jist let any of ’em show their heads outside these 
four walls, if they want the consate taken out of them, 
that’s all.” 

“ Look to him,” said Mrs. Lenox, addressing the 
“Parson,” and pointing to his prostrate companion, as 
she applied herself to the restoration of worthier sub- 
jects. “ I hope I have not killed the wretch,” added 
she, turning to Mr. Weston— “ Bleed him,” said the 
latter, throwing his pen knife towards the door ; “ I 
don’t want him to get off so easily, and I presume it 
would not be agreeable to you, to undergo the investi- 
gation that must follow, in case of accident.” 

“Wine, Mr. Weston” — he took up a decanter and 
commenced pouring it out ; but the next minute it was 


RISINa YOUNG MEN. 


137 


after tlie J ustice’s manual. Dvugged^ by all 
that’s holy ; ” and he looked round for something to 
throw at the Landlord’s head. There was nofliing more 
suitable, so the other decanter had to serve ; but long 
experience, had made that worthy, expert in dodging 
such missiles, and the contents fell in a sparkling shower 
on the face of I^^o. Two — The girls must get well with- 
out it.” 

We must not omit to state, that the parting bene- 
diction, bestowed by the last speaker on his hopeful, 
would-be, son, had settled him very snugly, in a mar- 
vellously soft, deep mud-hole ; — much to his own per- 
sonal comfort no doubt, but obviously to the detriment 
of his small clothes, and the manifest annoyance of the 
prior occupant, who resented the intrusion on her do- 
mestic arrangements, by loud, and long-continued 
grunts and squeals, and lost no time in serving on the 
Squatter, a summary process of forcible ejectment. At 
the precise moment when affairs within, had progressed 
to the exact point already specified — we don’t write for 
the edification of that numerous and interesting class 
of readers, who can’t comprehend that events may 
ti'anspire much more rapidly than they can be record- * 
ed — just at this particular juncture we say, the new 
Tenant-at-will, was beginning to lose his temporary ob- 
livion of all things past present and future, and finding 
the ideal give place to the real, commenced kicking 
and sprawling, to the immortal envy, and admiration 
of all the exquisite frogs in the neighborhood, “ who 
saw themselves so very much exceeded, in their own 
way, by all the things that he did.” 

“ Happy to meet you, Mr. Smockface, surrounded 


138 


EISING YOUNG MEN. 


by your interesting family. Wish you much joy of your 
new lady, and the fine childer,” said John, who was 
doing duty, as sentinel, on all sides of the house, with a 
special eye to that opening into the basement, where 
he had concealed the Barouche horses. ‘‘ Come, don’t 
be bashful man, — salute your bride — ’fraid the tither 
one’ll be jealous, eh ? Oh never mind, won’t I be giving 
her this beautiful pocket hankercher’” — ^picking up a 
curiously cut and slashed piece of bearskin, which de- 
tached by the unceremonious contact of Mr. Weston’s 
fingers, had fallen during the owner’s rapid transit from 
the window — “ all to wipe her pretty eyes with ? And 
wont yer honour be after telling a poor body, if that 
swate music I hear, is a grand Epithalamy, or only jist 
one of thim illigant curtain lectures, wdiich Mike 
O’Leory says, ‘perwades the whole Island of Matrimo- 
ny ? ’ Mr. Weston and Mrs. Lenox were still standing 
near their common patients, though both were now out 
of immediate danger; and their own position joined to 
the nature of the ground, brought the scene below, into 
the exact angle of vision. Mrs. Lenox laughed outright, 
and even Mr. Weston’s exasperated feelings, at length 
gave way. Seizing Ellen, who sat perfectly motionless, 
half stupified by rage and shame, he dragged her across 
the room — “ Come Mrs. Widow-bewitched, come, take 
a last look of your charming caro sposo^ John went 
on — Bother yer bones, and lie still, and be aisy to ye — 
can’t ye ? Don’t you see the tither one is cornin’ ? ” 
Here he gave him another shove with his foot, and 
rolled him over again, in the mire, but seeing Mr. Wes- 
ton and Ellen, in the window, was about to desist, when 
the former nodded to him to go on. ‘‘ Quite delighted 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


139 


iiidade I am, my honey ; to see you so nicely situated 
in the midst of your family circle ; so here’s to the 
bonny bridegroom, and his nate little bride, and all the 
swate darlings ! Don’t wish to be disrespectful ma’am,” 
turning to Ellen, “ but you see as how it comes sort o’ 
natural, so I goes in for the ‘old rint payers,’ the raal 
lords of tlie soil. Three cheers for the happy young 
couple, and their promisin’ family — so here goes” — 
flom-ishing his hat — “ Hurra for Mrs. Pork and the 
childer ! ” 

“ Well John, if you have done with that subject, I 
think we have another here, we can recommend to your 
attention.” 

“Any thing yer honour likes sir — it’ll be very agree- 
able to me ; only yer honour know’s, it goes agin a man’s 
conscience, to put one man, into another man’s bed.” 

“ Did we not pass a run of water, just before the 
last turn ? ” 

“Yes sir : — want him put into it ? Expect he’s only 
‘ Possumming ’—I’m thinking that same pig-stye would 
agree with him mightily, ounly ” — 

“ hTo John, — bring me a bucket of water. This 
fellow, here, wants his blood put in circulation.” John 
rummaged the kitchen department, where he had stabled 
his horses ; but not finding the vessel named, stove in, 
a half-empty barrel of Whiskey, and soon returned with 
Four, or Five, gallons of water. Here the Landlord 
ventured to remark, that he thought his patient would 
do witliout it. 

“Well and thin, it’s a pity to waste it, and I can’t 
afford to bring it for nothing, so yer jist wilcome to it, 
yersclf;” and before Boniface could recover from his 


140 


KISING YOUNG MEN. 


kneeling position, at the side of the other ‘‘subject,” he 
had received the whole on his head. 

“Well done John, and now lend a hand, and we’ll 
just strip them-— they’ll catch their death in these damp 
clothes.” Here Boniface essayed to run, but was in- 
stantly seized by Mr. Weston, and divested of his upper 
garment. His attempt, had diverted John’s attention, 
momentarily from bis own charge, who contrived, mean- 
while, to wriggle himself out of the room, but before he 
was fairly on his feet, he was recaptured and brought 
back. “ Ob, ho— Is that your game my hearty ? But 
you’re in limbo, my dear,” pointing to the outer door 
which he had barricaded with the benches and hand- 
railings from the exterior, before he went to enact sentry. 
“ I don’t fasten people out, I only locks them in ! ” 

Mr. Weston’s arrangements were soon made, and 
putting the carriage-whip into the hands of Ho. Two, 
he ordered him to give the Landlord a cool dozen or 
two, and stood over him, with his sword-cane, to see it 
well done. “ Exercise is a tine thing my Beauty, im- 
proves you wonderfully, don’t take it freely, might go 
off with tlie night mare some of these days ; and only 
think, wiiat a loss you’d be to the world! Don’t be 
iineasy,”^ turning to Boniface, “ your turn next, and 
thin tliinh ot your profits I ” The whip now changed 
hands— “Beautiful reel that, you’re dancing Mister,* 
good tor stagnation of the blood — economical, save a 
Doctor’s bill, haven’t made much, this speculation, eh ? ” 
Mr. Weston now interposed, “Don’t flatter yourselves 
I’ve done with you yet, gentlermn and drawing Ellen 
forward, he handed the whip over to ber. “ How, give 
it to them^ if you don’t want to catch it yourself! 


KISING YOUNG MEN. 


141 


Don’t yon tliink she’s a striking Beauty,” added lie 
when he sutfered her to desist. But John wasn’t quite 
satished yet. ‘‘I w^ant a mate to this, plase your 
honour,” holding up liis Bearskin,— “ they’ll make such 
nice mittens to driv'e in, next winter, (barrin’ the young 
ladies don’t want them for keepsakes,) only, they’re so 
ragged ; ” and he commenced tugging and pulling, 
with might and main, at his honor’s whiskers. “ They 
won’t come off sir,” turning to Mr. Weston, couldn’t 
we take one of these beautiful locks, jist for a love to- 
ken? ” Mr. Weston picked up his knife and trimmed 
one entirely to John’s satisfaction,— and now,” wheel- 
ing him about, “ make your compliments to the ladies, 
and ask them if it isn’t very becoming ? ” 

“ B erfectly new style — highly picturesque,” replied 
Mrs. Lenox : “ and don’t forget to add, when relating 
the incidents of this charming adventure, that you had 
the honour, to be knocked down by one lady, and horse- 
whipped by another.” 

“ And thank your stars, that you got off with noth- 
ing worse, than lynching and drowning.” 

“ I’m thinking sir, he’d better be looking after his 
friend, in the stye,” said John, dismissing him in that 
direction. “ I don’t wish to be partial,” collaring the 
landlord, and faith Honey, you shall have a taste of 
shoe leather too ! And now,” jumping out after him, 
‘‘pick yourself up, dearie, and step into that stable 
Gown there, and bring out thim horses — I don’t go to 
a Tavern, to wait on meself altogither ! ” 

“ Beg your pardon, Mrs. Lenox, for making you 
witness such a scene, but couldn’t well avpid it.” In a 
few minutes Mrs. Lenox, and Julia Le Grand were 
6 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


142 

seated in tlie carriage, and Cornelia wlio was hanging 
on her father’s arm, about setting her loot on the steps 
—“Stand back my dear” (pushing Ellen forward) 

“ don’t you know that married ladies, take the prece- 
dence ? ” Upon second thought, however, he concluded 
to take, “ the bride,” with him, in the Barouche, though 
for what purpose did not appear, till they had nearly 
reached the public road. “Stop John, I don’t think 
we shall find a deeper gully than this ; ” and in a few 
moments the horses were attached to Mrs. Lenox’s car- 
riage, and the Barouche turned over on one side. It 
was Ellen’s turn next, and mounting his horse, her 
father took her up behind him, and riding round a low, 
narrow, crazy, pole-bridge, half washed away by a re- 
cent rain, dropped her ofl* into the middle of the stream, 
and ordered her to wade out. Dismounting he stepped 
to the carriage, “ now for you Miss Julia, but I will not 
give you much, only just to save appearances ” — so he 
made Ellen wring her dresses on to those of J ulia Le 
Grand, and then stuffed them both back into the car- 
riage. “ Cornelia my dear, do you feel able to ride 
this horse ? ” 

“Uo Mr. Weston, she had better not try, let me do 
it, and by the way, we had better secure those bits of 
cambric, they might tell tales; and don’t forget young 
ladies, that the Barouche got upset, and you tumbled 
into the water.” Mr. Weston and Mrs. Lenox now 
preceded the rest of the party, so as to have cloaks and 
shawls ready to throw around the “Naiads” and “ wa- 
ter-nymphs,” as Mr. Weston persisted in calling them, 
tlie moment they alighted. 

Mrs. Weston had just achieved an important vie- 


EISING YOUNG MEN. 


143 


^.orj at chess, of course there was nothing else for her 
to do, but go off, in a fit of Hysterics. “ Let her come 
out of tliem,” said the justly incensed Father, — “If 
that child , pointing to Frances Lenox, “ had not lacheA, 
your WANT of discretion, you liad never set eyes on jour 
darling again ! Silence madam, and marh me, I will 
have no more of this favoritism, and as for you Miss,’^ 
turning to Ellen, “ make up your mind to stop at some 
Quaker School, in Pennsylvania ; and I don’t know as 
I shall ever let you come home. I have no words to 
thank you, JVIrs. Lenox j but God bless you, my 
daughter,” taking Frances in his arms, and imprinting a 
fatherly kiss on her forehead ; “ but for you, I had been 
childless, the better sacrificed to the worse ! ” 

The next morning Cornelia was dangerously ill, of 
a Brain Fever, and anxious to prevent further exposure, 
Mrs. Lenox and Frances watched over her with assidu- 
ous attention. When she was again convalescent, her 
Father made some enquiries of Mrs. Lenox, respecting 
the prospects of her niece. I do not ask from curi- 
osity, madam, but, under God, I owe the preservation 
of both my children, to her and yourself— if she needs 
it, she shall share their fortune.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Weston, she does not; but your 
generositj" deserves confidence in return. My ‘Heice,’ 
sir, is MY DAUGHTEK. To-moiTow, you are at liberty to 
proclaim the fact.” 


144 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


CHAPTEK YI. 

“ Hoaxed, by all that’s ridiculous,” said a group oi 
young men, assembled next morning to grace Judge 
Lenox’s departure, for though we have not chronicled 
his arrival, it had occurred, during Miss Weston’s ill- 
ness ; and perhaps also, to take another look at the fair 
young face, they had now, lost all chance, of ever mak- 
ing tlieir own. 

“ May I be hanged, and shot, and drawn, and quar- 
tered, if it isn’t outrageous ! Such impositions upon 
the public ought not to be tolerated.” 

“ Don’t lay it so to heart, Ned,” said some “ hand 
and glove acquaintance ” of three weeks, who had 
flirted a little with Miss De Witt, occasionally, just to 
keep his hand in, when there was nothing better to do. 
But ‘‘ Hed ” did lay it to heart. However after two or 
three days’ careful revision of the past, he Anally came 
to the conclusion, that the case wasn’t so very desperate 
as he at flrst imagined. His magnanimous patronage, 
and avowed admiration of the “ poor rustic,” must cer- 
tainly strike the balance in his favour, notwithstanding 
some few, disparaging insinuations, touching her infe- 
riority, to “her more fascinating cousin.” “The Yan 
Lear, is a gone spec, (deuced if I know, what a woman 
that’s got money, wants to go about like an old Quaker 
for,) these Southern Fortunes, ‘great cry and little 
wool,’— save Higger wool — wont bring more than half 


RISING YOUNG MEN.* 


145 


price in market, can’t keep the things here, wouldn’t 
be any use if I could ; and wont live there, amongst 
the Sw^amps and Alligators. Besides, want a whole 
army ol Servants, and ‘ eat me out of house and home ’ 

• — whole ‘ kith and kin ’ coming every Summer, to spend 
the ‘ Hot season, at the Horth,’ ” soliloquized Mr. Ty- 
ler, so on mature deliberation he decided to follow." 
“ At all events, there’s Lucy — have her any time, for 
the asking. Hot quite so pretty, it’s true, but looJcs is 
nothing. Quizzical little devil too, not always quite 
sure she isn’t making fun of you ; but soon cure her of 
so his resolution was taken. 

Agreeably to appointment, Messrs. Walton, Morton, 
and Lenox with their respective families, rendezvoused 
at Quebec. The season being fine, and the situation 
pleasant, it w^as concluded to remain several weeks. 
This was a little inexplicable, at first, to Lucy, and 
Frances, who had now resumed her proper character, 
but the arrival of a new party by way of the Lakes, 
soon explained it all, very satisfactorily. It consisted of 
Lieut. Charles Marshall U. S. H. his mother, and more re- 
cently married sister with her husband from Philadel- 
phia ; and Basil Marshall Esq., counsellor at Law, so- 
licitor in chancery etc. etc. from Tallahassee. The epi- 
sode of a marriage, w^as an interpolation on the original 
plan of the Tour ; but while its preliminaries are pro- 
gressing, we must not neglect old acquaintance. 

Mr. Tyler, had no vagabond propensities, to keep 
him loitering about waterfalls and other romantic spots, 
BO he managed to precede Judge Lenox, just in time, 
to install himself, very securely, in the midst of the only 
suite of apartments, which it seemed agreeable for the 


146 


•KISING YOUNG MEN. 


latter to occupy. His civility in exchanging, entitled 
him to some little in return, and, as Lucy remarked to 
Miss Yan Lear, and Frances, ‘‘When people have no 
more interesting animal to amuse themselves with, they 
must e’en do the best they can, with a puppy.” Still 
the exact punctilio, of that gentleman’s deportment 
toward himself, was so difierent from the genuine po- 
liteness, which marked his intercourse with his equals, 
that our Millionaire was a little dubious, as to the re- 
ception of his Proposals in that quarter ; so he prudently 
resolved to give Miss Lucy, “ every possible encour- 
agement,” short of actual declaration, at the same time 
that he spared no pains, to ingratiate himself with “ the 
fascinating Miss Lenox,” in her absence, This is at 
all times a rather hazardous game, which none but those 
possessed of superior abilities, should venture to play ; 
especially where the parties associate on the intimate 
footing of old Schoolmates. A complot was finally 
arranged between the Two, (or rather Three, for Jane 
Y an Lear was not wholly guiltless of connivance,) by 
which the unsuspecting Innocent, was betrayed into 
ensuring himself, not only a refusal, but a duplicate of 
the same, within two consecutive hours. 

In accordance with this scheme, it was arranged 
that Lucy, being the elder, should have the first offer ; 
and accordingly Frances became exceedingly distant 
and reserved, a change of demeanor which he failed 
not to attribute, to parental injunction. Glad to have 
the question answered without asking, he now de- 
voted himself exclusively to Lucy; and complained 
most piteously of the state of his heart, which, if his 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


147 


statement may be relied on, was blazing, and frozen, 
and transfixed, and corroded, at a most frightful rate. 

‘‘That must be a very complicate disorder of yours, 
Mr. Tyler. I don’t pretend to understand these things 
myself ; but have always understood that Diseases of 
the Heart were very dangerous, and should advise you 
to consult a Physician immediately.” 

“ Ah, Miss Lucy, you are so witty ! May I under- 
stand that you refer me to your Father ? ” 

Lucy nodded, “ I dare say he’ll do as well as 
another — he has got Books, with all sorts of unpro- 
nounceable words in them.” Mr. Tyler was off to Dr. 
Morton’s room, and Lucy went to notify Frances. We 
should premise, that Dr. Morton had long been subject 
to periodical attacks, which, for the time, greatly im- 
paired his hearing ; and was now recovering from one, 
but had not fully regained his auricular powers. 

“ Glad to hear you are better. Dr. Morton, — ^liave 
the honour to wait on you this morning, on a little mat- 
ter of business.” 

“ If your business is not urgent, would prefer that 
you should defer it, till I get more perfectly restored, 
Mr. Tyler.” 

“ AYoiit trespass on you long, sir. Just a matter of 
form — mere trifle, soon settled. Much attached to your 
daughter, sir — only called to receive the expression of 
your approbation.” 

Dr. Morton looked surprised. “Well, I shouldn’t 
have expected this from Laura ! But you mistake her 
meaning, young man ; she has merely sent you to me, 
to spare herself the embarrassment of saying, that she 


14:8 


KISINQ YOUNG MEN. 


is ‘ otlierwise engaged.’ Didn’t suppose yon could be 
ignorant of it, at this stage of aifairs — she is to be mar- 
ried, next week.” 

“ It’s your younger daughter, Miss Lucy, that I de- 
sign making Mrs. Tyler, sir.” , 

‘‘What Lucy! my Lucy? Why, the child is so 
volatile, she will not be ht to marry these Six years ! 

“ Charming vivacity, delightful age, just seventeen 
I understand, charming wife — couldn’t be better suited 
— wont think of withholding your consent — charming 
spirits.” How much longer he might have gone on 
ringing the changes on “ charming^'^ no one knows, 
for Dr. Morton cut him short — “ Hadn’t the remotest 
suspicion of this — very singular, affaii’s' should have 
come to this pass, without my knowledge, or concur- 
rence.” 

“ Presumed you could have no objection sir. My 
Fortune — 

“ ‘ The mate for beauty, should be a man and not a 
money-chest!’ We must needs have money to live, 
but we are not bound to live for money ! I have 
trusted too much, perhaps, to her mother and Laura, 
and been too remiss myself, in attending to the asso- 
ciates of my daughter ; but must know something ot 
yourself, as well as your fortune, before I consent to 
the continuance of your addresses. When /give away 
a daughter, it is to the man, and not his money-bags ! 
— will you favour me with a little of your personal 
history ? ” Mr. Tyler seemed at a loss how to begin. 

Are you a native of this city — Hew York I mean ? ” 

“Yes sir.” 

“ Parents living? ” 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


149 


“ One of tLem was, tlie last time I heard from 
her.” 

‘‘Doesn’t reside with you then ? ” 

“ITo sir.” 

“ Where then ? ” 

“ In the country.” Where, he might have added, 
she had retired to spare her son, the reproach of allow- 
ing his mother, to live in indigence, in some obscure 
corner of the city ; but as he was very laconic in his re- 
plies ;• it is to be presumed, he feared encroaching on the 
Doctor’s time and strength. 

“Father not living you say — what was his busi- 
ness ? ” 

“ Mercantile.” 

“What line?” 

“ Oil.” 

“ ‘ Soa'p and Oil^ was it not ? Think I recollect 
such a House.” (Hems) — “ Slippery articles — seems to 
have been very prosperous though; left you a fine 
Fortune. Any Brothers, or Sisters ? ” 

“ Hone living, that I know.” He might have known, 
liad he chosen to enquire in the haunts of infamy, for a 
lost being, driven there by his all grasping avarice, and 
the desertion of another equally base ; who had failed 
in his unprincipled scheme, to extort from an aifiuent 
Brother, a few paltry thousands, to cover the dishonour 
)f a sister ! 

“ Any other connexions in the city ? ” 

“ Hot that I know.” 

“ Where do they reside ? ” 

“ Can’t say sir.” 


ir>o 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


“Louder Sir, if you please. Charleston, did you 
say ? ’’ 

“1^0 sir.” 

“ Where then ? ” 

“ Don’t know.” 

“Louder Sir — a little louder — didn’t understand 
you.” 

“ Cant say sir.” 

“ Strange, ricli man without relation s^^^?(9r• now, it 
wouldn’t be so remarkable,” said the Dr. communing 
with himself. “ At a distance I presume — never hear 
your Parents speak of their relatives ? ” 

“ May — but can’t say I remember.” 

“ Ah, I understand — ‘ Head of your House ! ’ Beg 
pardon, don’t wdsh to say anything offensive, but neces- 
sary for a Parent to he informed on these subjects 
general character and standing of one’s Family, pretty 
good clue to that of the individual, in the absence of 
more direct evidence. I don’t insist that my daughter 
shall marry a man, with a genealogy like a Welsh Ped- 
igree ; but when a lady is taken out of her own con- 
nexion, it is certainly desirable, that her husband should 
be able to introduce her into another, equally respec- 
table. But if you have not that, you seem to have the 
next best thing to it, none at dll j and as the accident 
of birth, is one over which none of us have any control, 
it ought in justice, to have less weight, in deciding 
questions of this kind, than considerations more purely 
personal. This is not the place for investigations of 
that nature, but I shall probably return to the city 
within Two or Three months, and then, (if Lucy hasn’t 
changed her mind in the mean time, than which nothing 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


151 


is more likely,) will endeavour to make the necessary 
inquiries during the coming Winter; and if I find 
every thing satisfactory, will not interpose my authority^ 
to prevent your marrying her next Tali, though I 
should much prefer keeping her with me several years 
longer. Till then^ I shall of course expect you to desist 
from all further effort to bias her affections.” Here, 
the Invalid made a courteous, but decisive inclination 
of the head, signifying that the audience was closed ; 
and turned on his pillow, exclaiming, “Thirty drops of 
Digitalis, Sam, and darken the room, I want to sleep.” 

Remonstrance was useless, tliere was no mistaking 
this hint, so Mr. Tyler had to take his insulted dignity 
off, the best way he could. 

“Curse his impudence! Talk to me, of waiting 
Six Months for an answer ! — ^ demmed'^ \i /wait for 
any of his investigations. Let the old Prig know what 
it is, to treat a man of my consequence after this fash- 
ion ! Don’t get the offer of another millionaire soon. 
‘ Change her mind,’ heigh ? Save her the ti’ouble ! 
Cruel disappointment, no matter, sober her the sooner.” 
This indignant monologue w^as brought to a full period, 
just as the speaker unconsciously stalked into the pres- 
ence of Miss Prances Lenox, in a magnificent rage. 
She however, chose to see the matter in a very differ- 
ent light. “ ‘ Sighing like a furnace,’ as usual, Mr. 
Tyler. Do you know, I am getting very jealous of 
late ? ” 

Tlie word ‘jealous,’ caused a sudden revulsion in 
the wliole current of that gentleman’s ideas. So then 
her recent coolness, was not hy ordm\ but arose from a 
much more flattering cause. 4^ 


152 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


“ Gad, it’s lucky after all ! Much the best match, 
not more than half as many children, (Dr. Morton had 
sons both older and younger than his daughters,) su- 
perb connexion, devilish fond of ‘ settlements ’ though ; 
— mustn’t mind, save expense — he prompt^ or else ” — 
and as these reflections passed rapidly through his mind, 
his measures were taken. With the most wo-begone 
countenance imaginable, he averred in the blandest 
of tones, that his melancholy Tvas solely attributable to 
her cruelty ; and lost no time in insinuating, that all 
his possessions availed him not, “ so long as he wanted 
this little hand^'^ making a futile attempt to seize that 
of the listener. “ Oh that belongs to my Father — you 
must ask him. I don’t give away other people’s pro- 
perty ! ” There was no time to lose, if he would not 
have the prior application come to light, before every 
thing was settled, so he repaired forthwith to the pres- 
ence of Judge Lenox. Flis recent schooling, had taught 
him, that less assurance would be quite as becoming 
for the occasion ; so he contrived to make this over- 
ture, with more propriety. 

Judge Lenox started to his feet, an angry flush 
rising to his brow, “Young man,” said he, “you have 
never liad any encouragement from me, or mine, to asso- 
ciate with, much less, to address my daughter; and no 
millionaire son of a Bankrupt Father, shall ever be son 
of mine, so help me God ! Go at leasts and provide 
decently for your deserted Mother, and reclaim, if you 
can, your lost Sister, before you^ever, ^ain, presume 
to ask any honest man, for his child.” 

“ Zounds sir — ” but his elegant exclamation was cut 
short by Judge Lenox’s bowing with the haughtiest 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


153 


condescension, as he looked significantly towards the 
dooi, and turned on his heel, with an air of withering 
conteinpt. Putting his hand to his head, not without 
suspicion, that these high latitudes had destroyed his 
identity, or impaired his reason, the double-rejected 
bounced, rather than walked out of the apartment, only 
to find his progress eventually intercepted, by both his 
inamoratas, and Miss Yan Lear. 

“There is Mr. Walton, Mr. Tyler. You don’t 
mean to slight Jane^'^ said Lucy, “And she, richer than 
both of us,'’ continued Frances. “Indeed, I shall take 
it very unkindly, Mr. Tyler, if you make such invidious 
distinctions,” added Miss Yan Lear. 

“ Hell and Furies^' exclaimed the exquisite, as the 
astounding tact of his having been regularly victimized, 
absolutely stared him in the face— evanishing at the 
same time with such astonishing celerity, that we can- 
not make affidavit, as to the precise mode of his evap- 
orating into thin air. 

“Why what ails the young American,” enquired 
the Haitre de Hotel, of his head clerk about half an 
hour later? “Can’t say sir.” “Got a sky-scraper, L 
expect sir,” said Irish John. “ Which means I sup- 
pose, that he has been kicked sky high? ” John nod- 
ded assent, and turned to see what equipage was dash- 
ing up to the door. Two or Three hands were waving 
farewells from the upper balcony — ‘‘Good bye Mr. 
Tyler, don’t forget to go by Montmorenci.” “ Why 
that’s the wrong road.” “Oh no matter, he thinks 
Niagara, will be more sublime ; ” and oti* went Mr. 
Tyler at a furious rate. Not having had the distin- 
guished honour of his acquaintance, since the date of 

7- 


154 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


these, his ‘^most delightful recollections,” we cannot 
affirm positively respecting subsequent events ; but ac- 
cording to our latest advices, he had drawn up his 
forces, for a regular siege, before the freckles and Dol- 
lars, of red-headed Susan Grant, “the ugliest girl in 
'New York” — Success attend him. 

“ Frances can it be possible — ” ^ 

“ Don’t scold me Papa,” and a pair of soft arms 
were wreathed coaxingly round his neck, as the rising 
frown was kissed off his brow, “ don’t scold me ; you 
know you say, ‘ people are always ill at ease, out of 
their own sphere,’ and we thought it would be only chari- 
table, to put him in a way of finding his own level.” 

“‘TF^ha! That means Lucy and yourself of 
course, and if that is all, suppose I must let you off this 
time ; but look ye, my lady, let me catch you sending 
any^ body you don’t want, to ask for you, again, and 
see if I don’t give you, to him ! Put where is your 
mother ? ” 

“ Gone out with Mrs. Morton.” 

“ All right, and I will go, and sit with the Doctor, 
awhile.” 

^ “Lucy, you mad-cap, what did you send that pop- 
injay, here, to annoy me for?” 

“Oh I knew the ‘Prince of the bed-chamber,’ 
(black Sam) wouldn’t admit him, unless you were tol- 
erably comfortable ; and I w^anted him out of the way, 
before the important next. They do say, they publish 
these things, here. Bridesmaids and all, and Pm not 
going to be put in the papers, with any sort of a. no- 
body ! Judge Lenox, I have an idea of getting the 
loan of you, for the occasion ‘ The Hon. Judge Lenox 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


155 


tfec., (fee., and the younger Miss Morton ’ — that wouldn’t 
sound badly, and the Papers wouldn’t know, but you 
were some spruce old Bachelor.” 

“Well, ril ‘think of it,’ Miss Lucy, ‘and if I don’t 
find any insuperable objections, perhaps, in the course 
ot five or six months, I may let you know ; ’ but why 
will not Mr. Basil Marshall answer ? ” 

“ Oh, he’s gone over to the enemy (pointing to Mr. 
Walton’s apartments) horse foot and dragoons, baggage 
and artillery.’ I shall not forgive his defection, shortly.” 

“If a colonel of ‘ Her Majesty’s 74th ’ will atone 
for the desertion,” said Lieut. Marshall, “ I have the 
lionor to propose him as substitute.” 

• “In default of better, I suppose he will do,” re- 
turned Lucy, and the subject was dropped. 

She was right, as to the predilections of the younger, 
Marshall, who was much pleased with the unpretend- 
ing style and quiet humour of Miss Yan Lear. The 
utter absence of all effort for “ effect ” completed the 
charm ; and a few months later, their mutual friends 
were summoned, to witness another bridal, that gave 
no ordinary promise of future felicity. About the same 
time, Mrs. Lenox had the satisfaction, of seeing the 
worthy Mr. Hawthorne, united to the excellent Emma 
Lawrence ; and up to the present hour, that anomalous 
individual seems perfectly fascinated with his “ charm- 
ing young wife.” 

To the unspeakable grief, and mortification of Mrs. 
Waterson, however, her daughter, perversely declined 
all effort to prop'tiate the “ Government officer ; ” who 
-was now seeking some eligible political alliance, as a 
pledge of fidelity to the new party he had espoused, 


156 


EISING YOUNG MEN. 


when so shockingly disgusted, with the malversations 
in office, of snch important public functionaries, as Mrs. 
Lenox and her daughter. Spring returned and still 
she was single ; so as a last despairing effort, Caroline 
being then on the very last verge of nineteen, she re- 
solved to give her one more season, at the Springs. 
Mr. Waterson was opposed to the measure, but like 
most men of talent, who wed their opposites, by way 
of ensuring domestic quiet, had found, when too late, 
that a pretty simpleton, made neither an interestino- 
companion for himself, nor a judicious mother to his 
children ; and was far harder to control, than the most 
high-spirited woman of superior intellect, because less 
amenable to reason. All that his own arguments, 
backed by Caroline’s strong partialities for travellino- 
about, in preference to bring “ pinioned down in a mere 
Jiot-bed of fashion, and Pretension,” could do, was, to 
vary the plan of campaign, by substituting the White 
feulphur, for Saratoga. 

Here the latter was fortunate enougli to meet Cor- 
nelia Weston, (now a happy bride,) her^atlier, Motlier, 
and Cousin. Mrs. Weston was as devoted to che'?s as 
ever, and, much to the relief of Miss Waterson, "coL- 
trived to enlist her mother, in what was, to herself, the 
most important business of life. Not finding himself 
hunted down, the cousin, who had been a ward of the 
eider Mr. Weston, became much interested in Miss 
Waterson; and his uncle, who remembered her as the 
avorite of Mrs. Lenox and Frances, most cordially 
approved his choice; but Mrs. Waterson knew nothin^ 
of It, and when about to leave, was almost wild with 
remorse, to think of her own misspent time, “ when she 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


157 


knew perfectly well, that Caroline would do nothing 
for hereelf,” and could freely have cursed Mrs. Weston, 
fiom the bottom of her heart, for the most useful deed 
she ever performed in her life. We are not quite sure 
that her husband was innocent of all design, to prolong 
her compunction, and suspense to the utmost; bu^ 
when, at last, she had the supreme felicity, to endure 
“ the very great trial, of parting with her dear daughter,’’ 
no doubt the anguish of separation, was mucli assuaged 
by the reflection, that in case her second daughter 
proved as obstinately blind to her own interests, as 
Ca,rolme had long been ; she could now, as a last resort, 
ship the offender oflp to a new theatre in the West, and 
spare her younger sisters, the unwholesome contempla- 
tion of such a scandalous precedent. 

Several months prior to this consummation ‘‘ so de- 
voutly ” wished, Judge Lenox entered his parlor with 
an open Paper, bearing every mark of an official Docu- 
ment ^ My dear, you wish to take Frances abroad 
this spring ; how would you like a few weeks’ residence 
at St. J ames ? I am offered the post of ^ Extraordinary,’ 
but will not accept, in opposition to your wishes.” 

“If you, wish to do so, I should be sorry to have 
you think, it would be, at any expense of my feelings ; 
otherwise, I should be quite as well satisfied to see you 
untrammelled by official duties, and free to devote your 
time to your own amusement. You have served the 
Public long enough, I think, to be allowed some little 
time for recreation.” 

“ There I agree with you, Frances, and you know I 
resigned with a view to some relaxation ; but if I reject 
this Embassy, it may very likely bill into the hands of 


158 


KISING YOUN'G MEN. 


some restless Intriguant, far less competent than myself 
to discharge it with propriety. It will not detain us in 
London more than six, or eight weeks at farthest; and 
there will be one trifling advantage annexed — it will 
give us the entrh without the effort, which, as private 
individuals, we should necessarily have to make.” 

It would certainly be anything but agreeable to 
owe it, to some one, perhaps, whom we should scarce 
think presentable, at home ; and as your other argu- 
ment is still more valid, you shall not be delayed, on 
my account ; but remember I shall want to spend a 
much longer time in England, after visiting the conti- 
nent 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


159 


\ 


CHAPTER YU. 

Between two, and three years after date of the last 
conveisation, a noble western steamer, was careering 
proudly ‘‘ o’er the glad waters of the dark blue sea ; ” heai^ 
ing many of the lovely, the gay, and the brave, to their 
respective destinations, but we must confine our atten- 
tion to a small party, grouped around, or near, a table 
covered wdth Drawings. These were greatly superior 
to what is commonly found in the portfolio'of a non- 
professional Artist, and their owner, was apparently, 
about five and twenty, of the finest manly proportions; 
yet without enough of symmetrical feature, to consti- 
tute ‘‘a regular Beauty,” or destroy the decidedly 
intellectual expression of his speaking countenance. 
But the deep black eye, which flashed and sparkled 
with the intensity of its own light, when pursuing 
Truth, or detecting error, through the long windings 
and intricate mazes of argument, now beamed with 
mellowed lustre, on two bright beings, by his side, rich 
in hope, and youth, and loveliness. We do not how- 
ever pretend to say, that his glances were quite impar- 
tially divided between them; for while his bearing 
was marked with all courtesy, and even afiection to- 
ward the one on the right, his eye loved much better 
to linger on the fair face at his left, and at every new 


160 


EISING YOUNG MEN. 


print, or unexpected remark, sought that of the owner, 
as if her approval, were more to him than all the world 
beside. 

‘'Why Frederick, what do you keep this common 
looking thing tor, ’ said one of the ladies turning up, 
what was evidently a “ large as life ’’ portrait of a fe- 
male head and face. 

“ Perhaps it is by way of foil to the rest,” observed 
the other lady ; perceiving that the question caused 
some little embarrassment. 

“It is certainly one ol my earliest sketches,” returned 
the gentleman, (no other than “ little Fred Henley,”) 
“ but I do not preserve it, on that account.” 

“Do you consider it so very pretty then ? ” We 
are not sure, there was not a little, very little alarm, at 
the bottom of the inquiry ; for the travelled eye of the 
speaker, must have told her, that it was not valued as 
a work of art. 

Py no means — it is merely one of the thousand 
and one pretty faces, to be met at every turn and cor- 
ner, though I thought very differently once; but my 
taste in Beauty has undergone a total revolution since 
then,” and the ej^es of the speaker rested on the face 
ot the fair querist, with such an unmistakable look ol 
admiiation, as suffused her whole cheek, neck, and 
foiehead with the brightest glow. “I preserve it from 
gratitude P 

“‘And thereby hangs a tale,’ I suppose. Let us 
have it saved you from robbers, or assassins, or some- 
thing of that .sort, I presume,” said a matronly looking 
lady, at the opposite end of the table, who had been a 
silent, but not indifferent spectator of the scene. “ From 
a much more dangerous familiar, myself! This madam,” 


KISlNa YOUNG MEN. 


161 


handing over the picture, “ is the face of a Tyrolese 
Feasant. It matters not how, or where, we met; hut 
we did meet, and for that face, now so common-place 
in my own estimation, I would have risked friends, for- 
tune, station, every thing but honor ; and her sterling 
good sense, and conscious inability to throw off the 
})easant-blood, and peasant-feeling^ saved me from long 
years of unavailing repentance. It was in vain I 
asserted, that my wife should never be regarded as 
an interloper — that she should be received as a daughter, 
or not at all ; and that in the worst supposition, my 
own talents, and Profession, would secure her a posi- 
tion, far above that, she already occupied. ‘ You would 
make yourself uncomfortable without making me happy 
— cut off from your own family, and early associates, 
you would be always miserable, and I the cause — sev- 
ered from my own kindred, to find none in its place, 
deprived of my accustomed avocations and pleasures, 
and unable to share in yours, I should be always 
wretched,’ was the invariable tenor of her reply, and I 
was forced to succumb. She would have perilled life 
and limb to save me, from danger, or toil, but my wife, 
she would not be — do I not owe her a debt of gratitude ? ” 

Frederick f exclaimed a gentleman with a few sil- 
ver hairs intermingled with his own raven locks, “ give 
that picture to me ! Let it be my care, to make that 
true philosopher, who refused to intrude on a higher 
position, happy in her own.” 

“That is already done Father, as far as it may be, %. 
without raising the demon of Italian jealousy.” 

And this then, is the secret of your — but why had 
you not told me of this, before, and spared ” — 

“ If not for that fault, Father, I deserved all the 


162 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


censure, for so wholly disregarding your happiness, 
wdiile so madly seeking my own.” The old gentleman 
resumed his seat and conversation, and his son, turning 
to his youthful companion, remarked, “ I thought, when 
I parted wdth that worthy Peasant, that life could have 
no keener pang ; hut I have often felt it since, when 
beholding princes and nobles of other lands, bowing 
down to the shrine of my soul’s deep idolatry, mad- 
dened wdth the thought, that my own offerings might 
be overlooked ! ” 

“ Do you suppose,” said the lady, w^aiving the latter 
part of the remark, “ that if she had been a man^ she 
would have rejected, a superior alliance, so firmly? ” 

“ If you mean the question as personal, I would 
have a wife, my comjpanion^ my equal; one who 
should not feel, that she was translated into a new 
sphere, and had to sacrifice her own long cherished 
habits to mine, or was walking through life, arm in 
arm with a giant; but my superior^ in nothing, but 
personal beauty — no, not if she could bring ‘broad 
England,’ for her dower ! ” 

“ You speak as earnestly, as if you actually feared, 
coming in contact with some Sovereign Princess, or 
intellectual giantess, who might carry you off nolens 
volens ; but I did not mean the question, as personal, 
and see you do not like to answ^er it, in any other sense.” 

“ I do not quite understand, how it should have oc- 
curred to one, so young, to ask it.” 

“ Oh, I can explain that ; before we left home, I 
gave my daughter ‘ a peep behind the curtain,’ at the 
risk of making her ‘ an old maid,’ or a misanthrope for 
life.” 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


103 


“ I hope, madam, that in giving her thus early, the 
inevitable knowledge of human falsehood, and man’s 
duplicity, you did not teach her to doubt the existence 
of all true affection ? ” 

“ Had I ever wished to inculcate such a lesson, it 
would be hardly wise to abandon it now, to the under- 
mining influence of one Mr. Frederick Henley, and 
his rhetoric, and romantic adventures,” returned the 
Lady, falling back, into the elderly section of the group, 
“but where is Miss Warren?” 

Taking her siesta, we suppose, though nobody an- 
swered, the young lady being, by this time, too deeply 
absorbed in the merits of a print, she had held in her 
hand, for the last half hour; and the young gentleman, 
looking over her shoulder^ in utter dehance of etiquette, 
and we helieve, murmuring something in her ear, though 
with all our listening — in equal disregard of all good 
breeding — we could not make out exactly what it was. 
That it could not have been very agreeable, was evi- 
dent from the fact, that the lady turned first red, then 
pale, and never deigned the least reply to his imperti- 
nence, farther, than by at last raising her head, (doubt- 
less to bid him begone,) with her face glowing, and a 
pair of the most bewildering eye-lashes heavily sur- 
charged with tears. But men are so conceited ; and 
what did Mr. (we beg his pardon — :Dr.) Frederick 
Henley do, but march directly round the Table — his 
voice audible enough by this time — exclaiming “Father, 
if you forgive my boyish folly, help me to implore 
Judge Lenox, for the boon of his child ! ” 

“ Take her young man, if the wide earth were mine 
to choose, I would not ask a better, or nobler for my son.” 


164 


RISING YOUNG MEN. 


Frances, and Augusta, had lost no time in getting 
out of the way, being very anxious about Miss Warren, 
probably; but Henry Lenox, who had followed his 
family abroad, advanced just in time to witness the 
young lover’s eloquent expression of thanks. 

“ Hot so fast, my fine fellow, don’t put yourself to 
any extra fatigue, in the way of speech making; I 
haven’t given my consent yet ; and what is more, I 
don’t intend to, unless you persuade your Father, here, 
to give me your sister, in exchange ! ” 

“ She is yours my boy — I shall not lose a daughter, 
but gain a son,” exclaimed the Father, delighted to 
find the first wish of his heart gratified, by this double 
alliance with the Friend of his youth. 


‘‘Do yon know, Frances, I have been waiting for 
you these three months ? ” 

“ Waiting for what, Lucy ? ” 

“Oh don’t you know that George De Witt has 
taken compassion on my ‘forlorn state,’ as Mr. Water- 
son and Mrs. Hed Tyler are pleased to call it ; so 1 
want you, and Augusta, for Bridesmaids, and you will 
have to make up your mind to call me ‘ cousin,’ the 
best way you can.” 

“ I am delighted to hear it,” said Frances, throwing 
her arms as of old around Lucy’s neck ; “ but as to Au- 
gusta, I will see what Henry says about that, for you 
must know, her Brother^ insists, that — in short I don’t 
see how we are to manage it, unless we all three step 
into church together ; and that will suit Uncle George, 


EISLNO YOUNG MEN. 


165 


exactly. But among all the on dits^ 3LiUcy, you haven’t 
told me what has become of our old friend, Sinclair.” 

‘‘ Oh, he’s married, long ago, to Agnes Grey, and 
gone into Partnership with her father. And some 
people do say, that if he wasn’t the Son-in-law of such 
an eminent counsellor, he wouldn’t be called ' a higlily 
respectable Lawyer’ any oftener, than some others, 
that we don’t hear quite so much talk about.” 

“ Some people,” were probably right, for after Mr. 
Grey’s decease, the “ highly respectable^^'' wore out, in 
process of time, and within the last two, or three years, 
Mr. Sinclair appears to have found his proper level, in 
that grade of the Profession, whose incumbents are 
styled, “ very respectable members of the Bar ; ” but 
seems — mark it, young men, who forget, that there is 
“ NO royal road^ to mathematics^'^ and aspire no higher, 
than, than to find in a wife, an easy, “ royal roady"^ to 
fortune and distinction — no nearer its head^ than when 
first introduced to our acquaintance^ as a very rising 
imuNG Lawyer.” 







a 













TEIIL OF 1 FLIRT. 


Venue, a handsome drawing-7'oomy of the “Dark 
Ages,” between Steam and Telegraphy with a rather 
youthful passee, turning over some recherche Peri- 
odicals. Enter y a very distinguished looking Gen- 
tlemany her senior hy some LustreSy with a suspi- 
ciously legal-looking roll of documentSy minus only 
the red tape. 

Lady. Le hon soiry Monsieur. 

Gentleman. Good morning, madam ! 

L. Why, how now — what mighty nothing miglit lie 
under that Holy Father Coniessor-looking face of yours, 
this blessed morning? 

G. ‘Holy Father Confessor,’ indeed — I shall not 
shrive yon, unless very penitent, if half these charges 
{glancing at roll) are true. 

L. And pray, what might be the tenor of that for- 
midable scroll ? A formal osti-acism from the court of 
old king Procrustes, with a full list of my wicked here- 
sies, and more scandalous escapades annexed ? 

G. Why — not exactly. 


* Revised and enlarged from an old school composition. 


168 


TEIAL OF A FLLRT. 


L. AYliat then, a summons for me to be and appear, 
“ at the end of a year and a day,’’ before their rever- 
ences of the Inquisition, and High Priests of the code 
conventional, tlien and there to answer, for my treason- 
able practices, against the outraged majesty aforesaid? 

G. Simply, a citation to come into court of con- 
science, instanter, and “ see that you do answer fairly 
and truly,” as ye hope for mercy, to all and several of 
the allegations herein set forth. 

L. At whose suit, and on what authority ? 

G. On mine, and at the instance of common Kumor 
— (Z. common Liar !) — by me her accredited agent. 

Z. Oh, I cry you mercy, Mr. Pontifex Maximus, 
Purveyor General, and Minister Plenipotentiary of her 
High Mightiness, your Liege Lady, and Sovereign 
Mistress, Madame Kumor ! When might you have 
received your credentials ? 

G. It matters not, I have undertaken this commis- 
sion cmi amore^ and shall go through with it, with all 
the gusto of an amateur. 

Z. What if I choose to be recusant ? 

G. You dare not. 

Z. There is little I dare not do, but for want of 
anything better (these last Books are uncommonly stu- 
pid) it pleases me to respond ; therefore say on ; of 
what heinous malfeasance, am I now accused ? Whose 
peace of conscience, that is role of etiquette, have I 
outraged now? 

G, Listen ! {reads ) — “ You Mary I), incorrigible 
spinster, are hereby arraigned on three special Indict- 
ments, to wit. Firsts High crime and misdemeanor of 
Flirtation, Second^ Palpable coquetry, Thirds Falsehood 


TRIAL OF A FLIRT. 


169 


positive, or Breach of contract ’ — very grave charges 
which require to be separately and consecutively dis- 
cussed. COUNT, the First, High Grime and misde- 
meanor of Flirtation. 

L. Very improper, certainly, to infringe on amuse- 
ments gentlemen wish to monopolize ; but the proofs — 
evinced as how ? * 

G. By compelling, (through persistence in the most 
unprecedented stupidity, very doubtful by the bye) an 
extremely diffident man, to go the whole, mortal length, 
of addressing you in good set terms, and then, mark 
me, then^ “ suddenly wickedly and pertinaciously, 
withdrawing yourself, ‘ without any known cause or 
provocation,’ from a tacit -assigning no cause 

whatever, for your defection ! ” 

L. True^ to the letter 1 

G. It’s well you have the grace to look grave, at 
the recital of such an enormity, but I haven’t done — ■ 
‘‘ thereby causing a worthy gentleman and gallant sol- 
dier to feel, that with his implicit trust, in the lofty, un- 
swerving truth of you/r character, his whole faith in 
woman was destroyed.” 

L. Oh no — not that — ^it surely was not for that^ I 
so wronged myself, in the estimation of a high-minded, 
true-hearted man ! 

G. Why was it then ? 

L. To spare him the mortification of a direct dis- 
missal. 

G. That hardly suffices for the manner, much less 
for the matter — I must know all. 

L. “ The tale were long, besides it boots not now 
to tell.” 


8 


173 


TRIAL OF A FLIRT. 


G. Bemember^ ‘‘ see that you do answer — ” 

L. Suppose then, that ^^hindred^^ claims had unex- 
pectedly become paramount, though not obvious, and 
through circumstances which neither he nor I could 
control. Their brief duration, none of course, could 
then foresee. 

G. But why was he not informed ? 

Z. Because I had no wish to involve him in the 
hopeless struggle to reconcile the irreconcilable, no 
rights to waste his manhood’s prime in the long yearn- 
ings of hope deferred ; ” and you know how it is with 
him “convinced against his will” — perhaps too, I had 
some misgiving^n , my own account, it is not always 
easy, to resist tWJi^|uence of affection. 

G. And so, because you doubted his firmness, and 
distrusted your own, you chose to abandon him — spar- 
ing his pride, at the expense of his bitter feelings. 
Unwisely done! Better to have rejected him at 
once. 

Z. Perhaps so, but his morbid sensitiveness on that 
score, made me think differently at the time. 

G. You thought wrong — squeamishness itself, would 
have borne Kejection, much better than desertion ; and 
anger is short-lived in noble natures, like his. 

Z. You say truly, but contempt, he will carry to 
his grave. 

\ G. 'Not if I think proper to enlighten him. 

Z. Aye, do so, do ! You will then have filled up 
the full measure of his scorn — convincing him, that I 
have little respect for myself as to court apparently, an 
alliance once declined, so little for him, as to suppose 


TJRIAL OF A FLIRT. 


171 


he can be cast off and recalled, like any poodle ! Do 
so, do, his cure will then be perfect. 

G, {aside) Doubtful — I shall not risk the experi- 
ment — {aloud) Provided, he is hyperfastidious, and 
ultra-romantic as yourself ; but why did you, and do 
you c»vet his ill opinion ? 

L. Without it, he were only nominally free. 

G, Then you really wish him to marry another, and 
so leave him still to infer, that you acted solely from 
‘‘ woman's caprice ? ” 

L. Of course I do, can any one be so absurd as to 
doubt it ? He, was formed for domestic happiness, and 
I, am I trust, no “ Dog in the manger.” 

G. This all seems very magnanhho^, but isn’t there 
such a thing as “ doing evil, that good may come ? ” 

L. Certainly, and this is unpleasantly like practical 
falsehood, I must confess ; but my intentions, at least, 
are, and were, upright, and surely his sisters’ true and 
tried affection, must teach him, there is faith in woman, 
if he has not found it in me. At least I will hope so. 

G. And so will I. And furthermore, as your in- 
tent, appears to have been generous, if the result was 
not judicious, I suppose I must write you down, 
“ Guilty, hut recommended to mercy ^ 

L. Write me down anything you choose, so you 
dismiss the tiresome subject. 

G. With all my heart. Passer ons. Count the 
Second, Palpahle coquetry,. Specification, To hav- 
ing gotten up and presided at ‘‘ Sir Frisky Fribble 
Flirt’s, last hair-breadth escape, from the pains and 
perils of matrimony.” Guilty or not guilty ? Oh, you 


172 


TRIAL OF A FLIRT. 


needn’t trouble yourself to answer, I see well enough, 
by that “gleg o’ the eye,” how the case stands; and 
you don’t look the least bit penitential either. I’m afraid 
I can show you little mercy here. 

L. I only ask for justice. 

G. Justice ! • 

L. Aye, “justice” — have you never such a word 
in your vocabulary ? 

G. Why, yes, but then — 

L. That^ is a masculine prerogative ! I know it, 
but intend to have it, nevertheless. So just imagine 
me in toga virilis^ if you like, and proceed. 

G. You demand trial then ? 

L. I do — commencir. 

G. Court the ii. Specification, First, “ To getting 
up — ” 

L. I7ot guilty! 

G. “ And presiding at — ” 

L. Admitted ! 

G. And how to you expect to answer, for involv- 
ing a venerable Signior, in the expense of sundry new 
suits of superfine, (to say nothing of the extra waddings 
and paddings that eked out the Tailor’s bill,) an entire 
new" set of teeth, “ a most magnificent, curling Brutus^'' 
half-a-dozen Opera Tickets, two or three times a week, 
a capital, new quizzing glass, and the refurbishing of 
his gold rims ; not to mention a liberal douceur^ for 
the quiet insertion of new settings with double magni- 
fying powers no, nor the imminent hazard of life 
and limb, by exchanging “ snug easy-chair,” and good 
comfortable Lamb’s wool, for fiimsy, silk hose, night 
air, and other abominations ? 


TEIAL OF A FLIIiT. 


i^i’ possible, gentlemen commit sncIi pec- 

cadillos, after all the delectable homilies, they reacf 
poor weak minded, creatures, on the like enormities ! 

such f o" “aking love, after 

ch equivocal, ambiguous fashion, as if thev had the 
l^ear ot a hair trigger, or an empannelment of number 
welve, and “Damages,” continually before their eyes, 
■w ly, they ought not to complain, if some trifling ex- 
penditures, and awkward little oontretemm, do now 
and then occur. 

O. “Trifling!” Trifling, you hardened sinner! 
i^o you call that Box of Jewels, a “ Trifle? ’’ 

L. Justice, my Lord Chancellor, merely justice— 
he should have given it, to his graiid-daiighter, long be- 


G. But to seduce a Strephon of his yeare, into the 
perpetration of sonnets, duets, serenades, and such like 
juvenile malefantions — How dare you be so irreverent? 

-Z. How original! Res;pect^ for gray hairs, under 
a wig ! ‘‘ nothing new under the sun,” though— Mr. 

Solomon, I’m afraid your Majesty, must have been a 
great ninny after all. 

G, Well, I do rather opine, he never thought of 
that, but you deny stimulating his^ advances ? 

L. In toto. 

G. But you might have repressed them. Why did 
you suffer him, to make himself so ridiculous ? 

L. Am I his dignity keeper ? What right had I to 
contravene the first article of his creed ? 

G. That depends— but pray, what is it? 

L. Oh, the common one I presume, namely, that a 
lady has no right to supj^ose a gentleman ‘‘making 


174 : 


TlilAL OF A FLIRT. 


love,” till he asks her to many, circumstantial evidence, 
and all the world to the contrary, notwithstanding. 

G. {^soliloquizing) Creed common ’’—not do 
■ — might answer well enough sometimes, at others, not 
at all. 

Z. That is to say, that if you gentlemen please to 
flirt, that ought, of course, to be the rule ; but if you 
choose to act in good faith, the ladies should comjpre- 
hend, intuitively; not bore your sublimities, to put 
such gracious intent, into formal explanations — have in 
fact, no rights to be so provokingly stupid, or absurdly 
romantic, just as if they couldn’t turn you inside out, 
and read you like a book, any minute, without those 
verbal prosaics ! That’s the idea translated into “ King’s 
English,” is it not ? 

G. Saucebox ! Confess now, you did know what 
he meant. 

Z. Indeed, I shall do no such thing. How should 
I know it was not one of those occasions, when it pleased 
him to Flirt? Or suppose I did, what right had I to 
forestall a declaration, and “ awe a man from the ca- 
reer of his humor,” when he was bent upon showing off? 

G. Oh, none in the world, of course not ; but then 
you had a perfect right to entice him on, up to the 
seventh heaven of imagination, and when he thought, 
‘‘ good easy man, his greatness was a ripening ” — you 
know the rest. 

Z. ijiaughtily) Z, entice ? 

G. Pardon the word^ but let me refresh your mem- 
ory with a few extracts from the Farce of his discom- 
fiture {reads.) Sir Frishy — “ Do you not think any 
considerable disparity of years, always renders a match 


TRIAL OF A FLIRT. 


175 


superlatively ridiculous ? ” {Lady Hoaxton) 'Generally, 
not always.’ Please to name an exception ? 'When 
the difference, or disparity, is chiefly numerical.’ Will 
you have the goodness to explain precisely, what you 
mean by a merely ' numerical difference ? ’ ' Simply, that 
adverse fates may have made one party prematurely old, 
in person and feeling, while another (born under more 
fortunate stars) preserves the tastes, habits, and appear- 
ance of youtli, much longer than usual.’ ' Ten thousand 
thanks ; A very lucid explanation,’ ” — and highly satis- 
factory no doubt, he thought it then, but what do you 
call it now, if not, " direct encouragement ? ” 

L. Merely a very obvious commonplace, " speered 
after^’’ as the Scotch say, not volunteered. He was not 
bound to construe it, "I, am beyond my years, you, 
so remarkably young, for yours, that all disparity of 
age, is annihilated between us.” 

G. Still you knew, that was the identical way, he 
would translate it. 

L. What if I did, am I accountable for his miscon- 
ceptions ? Suppose a gentleman with black, or blue 
eyes, asks which I prefer ; am I to say, red, green, or 
yellow, lest he should fancy I have a special predilec- 
tion for the jets, or azures, under his os frontis ? 

G, Hot exactly, — but do you really think, what you 
say, about " numerical difference % ” 

L, To be sure I do. Is it so absiwd as to be alto- 
gether incredible ? 

G. " Absurd,” oh no, quite the reverse, I think it 
extremely sensible. 

L. Thank you. That is the reason then, that you 
doubted its sincerity. 


17G 


TRIAL OF A FLIRT. 


6r. You are particularly ingenious, at extracting 
derogatory intendments ; but if you choose to consider 
this, one, just set it*off against some of the left-handed 
compliments bestowed upon me this morning, (I dare 
say you have a goodly number still in store,) and come 
at once to the point. What induced you to make 
such a notable example to all sexagenarian coxcombs ; 
not to mention some who haven’t receded quite so far, 
from years of discretion? 

L. Oh he volunteered, very opportunely and mag- 
nanimously, to immolate himself for the good of his day 
and generation ; and of course it wasn’t for me to gain- 
say so laudable an intention, especially when his own 
overgrown vanity so imperiously demanded a little, 
wholesome “ Irish promotion — ” 

G. (Which you are eminently qualified to confer.) 

L. So being infected with a visitation of the blues, 
which I wished to curtail, I did, most heroically, under- 
take to administer it. 

G. Y ery valiantly, I should say ! This flaying alive, 
must require some nerves. Faith, now I think of it, 
you must have taken, “ Degrees,” under some Hiber- 
nian Eel-woman, or you’d never performed, so secundum 
artem. — Sapor, the Persian, was a mere bungler to you ; 
but how came you to know, that he did need your 
skill? 

L. Why, your lawful Suzerain, and charming Fa- 
miliar, that veracious historian. Common Peport, hath 
on record this chronicle, ‘‘ to wit. That in a certain year 
of grace which shall be nameless. Sir Frisky Fribble 
Flirt, after publicly grounding arms, and acknowledg- 
ing himself vanquished, by the matchless prowess of 


TRIAL OF A FLIRT. 


177 


Rii invincible widow, and being thereupon allowed 
parole^ lie, the said Sir Frisky, false knight, and re- 
creant ^ lover, did wickedly, wilfully, surreptitiously, 
and with malice aforethought, abstract, abduct, and 
convey himself away, from the jurisdiction of the fair 
dame aforesaid, to the manifest detriment, and scandal, 
of her his lawful captor, and rightful mistress — all of * 
which, is duly attested.” 

G. A damning accusation ! 

Z. “And furthermore, it is deposed, by double 
witness, that he has been known to express his ‘ regret^ 
for not having married a certain deceased Lady, whose 
consent (according to his own showing) he never asked 
adding, ‘ I ej^ow I could have done it, for she, set 
her cap at me, on all occasions,’ from all of which, 
and more of the same tenor, as respects the living, it 
appeared that he had, for the last five and twenty years, 
had to sleep under arms, on both continents, to avoid 
being circumvented and taken, by some manoeuvering 
widow, or enterprising damsel, with “honorable de- 
signs,” on his goods, chattels and personal liberties. 

G. Situation, le plus penible. 

Z. Whereupon, — in consideration of his unparal- 
leled sufferings, and in compliment to the indefatigable 
zeal and skill, evinced in the protracted defence of that 
small citadel, his heart, it seemed good to me, to hold 
out a flag of truce, and extend to him the potent shield 
of my high puissance. When so gallant a veteran, re- 
tiring from many a hard fought field, sought to repose 
on his laurels, would it not have been unchivalrous, to 
demand whether he meant to surrender at discretion, 
or only gather new strength for coming encounters 2 
8 * 


1T8 


TKIAL OF A FLIKT. 


G. Oh certainly ! And so, when he had fairly pni 
himself hors du combat^ and was palpably committed, 
Delilah like yon coolly abandoned him (shorn of his hon-^ 
ors) to be bandied about, mid the jibes and jeers of his 
old and pitiless adversaries — turning him over, in the 
most “ deil ma) care ” style imaginable, to his late 
compeers, the graceless youngsters, now remorselessly 
holding him up to each ancient Adonis, as an awful 
‘‘ be mindful,” to shun his pernicious example, or ex- 
pect his horrible fate ? 

L. Exactly so. 

G. Ila-ha-ha ! Well, I can’t denounce that pen- 
ance much, though it was rather of the severest ; and 
should he die of the infliction, must bring in a verdict, 
^^Justifiable homicide but don’t flatter yourself, my 
lady, that you are going to get ofl as easily, on the 
Thirds and last Ck>iJNT in the Indictment ! By what 
special plea, do you think to extenuate the flagrant 
offence of Falsehood Positive^ or Breach of Contract ? 

L. Simply by this — ^That when I do honor son of 
Adam, with the promise of my hand, it is not for him 
to blush for, or disavow. 

G, Of course not ; but you would not wish it trum- 
peted, and such disclaimers, you know, come within 
the License of modern etiquette. 

L. Husband of mine should be able to give law to 
society, not meanly to follow in its wake. 

G. But you should take the motive, into considera- 
tion, and that was undoubtedly, to spare you annoyance, 
by throwing idle curiosity off its track. 

L. The man that wants dignity to repress imperti- 
nence, or tact or talent to parry a little harmless rail- 


TEIAL OF A FLIET. 


170 


Iciy, without pledging his ‘‘word, and sacred honor,” 
to a plain, incontestable, unmitigated falsehood^ is no 
match for me — the sooner he is aware of it, the better. 
“ Sacred honor , indeed ! Too stale to be flung to a 
dog, or it had never been so lightly forsworn. 

G, “ Forsworn”— Is not that rather too strong a 
term tor a tashionable foible, a little lover like finesse i 
L. I am somewhat addicted to the unfashionable 
foible, ot calling things by their right names. If it is 
the court, and bar, alone, that make the perjury, why 
not send them to the penitentiary ? 

G. True — And any habit which enables man to feel, 
that on this, that, or the other occasion, he can “ lie 
like an epitaph,” with a perfectly clear conscience, is 
certainly of very questionable tendency. This phase, 
too, is silly as it is impious — it deceives no one, and 
should be universally discountenanced. A few exam- 
ples, like yours, would soon put it down, provided the 
motive, were allowed to go along with the act. Excuse 
the comment, but it has long seemed to me, that you 
needed an interpreter to translate you out of yourself. 
Society has lost half the benefit of your example, from 
a proud reserve — miscalled delicacy — which keeps the 
high-souled principles on which it is predicated, forever 
in the back-ground ; leaving the thoughtless to infer, 
that you too, are governed by no higher impulse, than 
their own frivolous, or still more exceptionable caprice 
L. Possibly ! But you are to recollect, that I never 
set up for a reformer ; and whenever some radical de- 
fect renders such elucidation necessaiy, I fear it would 
be, labor lost. 

G. Perhaps not, men often appreciate and admire, 


180 


TEIAL OF A FLIET. 


wliat they could never originate. The empyrean sparh 
may lie forever dormant, but when the electric torch 
is applied, its scintillations often flash forth, with, un- 
expected brilliancy. 

L. Oh, if you are going to launch forth into the 
wide ocean of metaphysics, let me take leave of you 
now, before your barque is quite lost to sight — my 
school-girl lore, does not extend to a single page of that 
occult mystery. 

G. Yet turn you to the page of cause and conse- 
quence, you can speculate, ‘‘ an you will,” with the 
best doctor of them all ; but never fear, I have no in- 
tention of losing sight of you — it would be a shameful 
dereliction of my official duties. Jievenom d nos mou- 
tons. And now tell me honestly, have you never re- 
gretted visiting fashion’s morals with such severe repre- 
hension ? 

L. Far from it — what could a woman say, on hear- 
ing Heaven and earth called to witness, that her in- 
tended had ^^no hojpe^ or prospect^ of marrying her,” but 
very tr%ie^ sir, you 1mm none .^” I cannot conceive how 
disclaimant, should feel himself, the jilted party, under 
such circumstances. 

G, Why, you know very well, that such things 
mean nothing, amount to nothing — 

L. Of more consequence, perhaps, than a little im^ 
pious trifling, and pretty conclusive evidence, that the 
pole star of Truth, is fast getting to be nothing more 
than a very eccentric comet, in our moral zodiac. And 
that folly, insignificant as it may seem, I consider one 
of the many insidious causes, now sapping the very 
foundation 'of integrity, poisoning the 'well-springs of 


TRIAL OF A FLIRT. 


181 


Truth, at their source. Nothing unquestionably de- 
moralizing, can be trivial, for its action and reaction 
goes on, and on, till men can utter falsehood after false- 
hood, without a blush, with all the fervor and eloquence 
of truth, and never dream that they are not “ all, all 
honorable men ; ” but where is the guarantee for social 
confidence, or domestic trust, in one who weakly suc- 
cumbs to its infiuence ? Where would be my “ love, or 
honor,” for such as these ? Echo answers, where f No 
matter how indignantly such an one might spurn an 
imputation on his veracity — a hair-trigger is no logic — 
/should not believe him. No matter what might be 
his station,, or his bearing, I should consider him a 
craven, and a plebeian. 

G. Noble, most noble ; but where will you find 
another heart attuned like yours, another spirit, pure 
and high-toned as your own ? 

L. Perhaps nowhere, again on earth, but my Fa- 
thers name, was sans jyeur sans reproche it has 
never become irksome to me yet, and unless Ldo find 
another like his, 1 will bear it unsullied to my grave. 
“ Noble or not I.” 

G. So it seems. — ^Then in place of rent-rolls, it will 
be necessary to place Letters patent” before you wdien 
I propose. 

L, You^ my Lord Chancellor, you ? 

G. Yes, I — and don’t see any occasion, for you to 
look so utterly astounded either. 

L. {Soliloquizing as if completely dazed) Who 
hath wrought this? “Here lives Benedick, the mar- 
ried man ! ” 

G, Not exactly, but I don’t care how soon you en- 


182 


TRIAL OF A FLIRT. 


able me to set up such a sign. Months and weeks are 
of more consequence to me, now, than they were twenty 
years ago. 

L. “ What a pretty thing is man, when he leaves 
off his wit, and goes in doublet and hose.” ISTow won’t 
that be a “ transmogrification ? ” 

G. A pleasant one, I think, so if you have no objec- 
tion (there is no one else, that I know, entitled to in- 
terfere) may I hope for your permission, to consider 
the thing settled, and make the experiment soon as 
possible ? 

L. {half arousing) My permission ! ‘‘ Why what’s 

Hecuba to me, or I to Hecuba % ” I’ve got nobody to 
give away ! 

G, Ma-ey! 

L. O'O-oh — I do remember ! Why is the man gone 
stark, raving mad ? “ Thing settled ” — “ nobody to in- 

terfere ” — really {rising) I must call “ some druggists 
and physicians ! ” 

G, Hot yet dearest {quietly replacing her) ; bide 
a wee,” at least till you have come out of your own 
hallucination {nialces several turns aoi^oss the room^ then 
resumes^ in a tone half gay^ half grave). And now, as 
it does not ‘‘please me to fiirt,” I hope you will have 
the grace to consider, that six months of such provoking 
stupidity, ought to suffice. 

L. “ Six months ! ” But “ nil admirari ” — 1 have 
reached the ultima thule of astonishment, and could no 
more, if you were to say you had been married, for the 
last four. 

G. I wish I had if — 

L. And so do I. It would have spared me this, 


TEIAL OF A FLIET. 


1S3 


and I do detest scenes, love scenes in particular ; 
all except Sir Frisky’s, when there were plenty of 
aids and abettors, to be art and part in my misdeeds. 

G. Then it was a regular conspiracy after all, not- 
withstanding you contrived to throw dust in my eyes. 
I m afraid, that as an equitable and impartial Judge, 
I shall be bound to reconsider that verdict. 

L, Conspiracy,” no such thing, only spectators 
and accessories after the fact ; but pray how often, do 
you of the higher judiciaries, try culprits on the same 
charge, after they have once been acquitted ? 

G. We’ll let that pass— and as you dislike “ scenes,” 
and I am no regular speech-monger, like Sir Frisky, 
and one little word of yours — 

L. {throwing up loth hands) For the love of mercy, 
spare me that commonplace; and I know it will be 
a gieat reliet to you too, for I don’t suppose you ever 
attempted anything so like an ordinary mortal, before, 
in all the days of your life. 

G. Have you been deaf then, as well as blind to all 
my efforts ? 

L. Hot either, that I am aware, but what were 
they pray ? I don’t recollect ever to have heard of 
them before. 

G. Ho you mean to make me repeat chapter and 
verse, of my whole devoirs, for the last twelvemonths? 

L, ‘‘ Eleven men in buckram just now it was six, 
what will it be next ? 

G. Much more than either, if the whole truth were 
told, but n’ imports, you haven’t answered my last ques- 
tion yet. 

L. Oh, by no manner of means. I can despatch 
the whole catalogue much sooner, myself. 


184 


TRIAL OF A I'LIRT. 


O. Yery likely, especially as you haven’t the slight- 
est knowledge of the affair. 

L. Aye, hut I’ll do my best to recollect, you see, 
and if memory isn’t civil, must e’en call upon imagina- 
tion. Let me consider, for what items is our Majesty 
indebted to your Highness ? Imprimis, To calling me 
minx, Ma-ry, and saucebox, each three several times, 
once very recently. Second^ To criticising my dress, 
commenting on my taste, and cavilling at the hauteur 
of my disposition, whenever you could take, or make, 
an occasion. Thirds To offering your escort to an en- 
tertainment of some sort, knowing I was too ill to accept 
it, and determined to secure a plausible pretext, for not 
encumbering yourself with any appendage of ‘‘woman- 
kind.” Fourth^ To claiming the protection of my arm, 
in open street, obviously to elude the dexter-manus of an 
able-bodied sheriff, of whom you stood in commendable 
awe, when he was running down jurors last winter. 
Fifths To handing me into a carriage, once or twice, 
when you couldn’t help it, and I dare say indemnifying 
yourself, by kicking the first puppy you met after- 
wards — 

G. Ho, that I didn’t, though ’twas a Christian duty, 
every man owed Tom Kid, the superfious handle to an 
opera-glass ; my conscience reproaches me for it yet ! 

L. Pray don’t interrupt me, any more, you have 
thrown me off my reckoning now. Let me see, where 
was I ? Oh, Item sixths To ensconcing yourself, one 
long, rainy day, in Cousin Anne’s boudoir, merely to 
save cigars and “Boots,” not to mention an attack 
of rheumatism. Seventh^ To absconding thither, on 
another occasion, when making escape, from a convivial 


TRIAL OF A FLIRT. 


185 


party, out of very holy horror of broken glasses, and 
vintner’s hills. Eighth^ To depositing sundry books, 
and Periodicals, in my care and kee^iing, evidently 
thinking me malicious enough, to aid and abet, in balk- 
ing the whole tribe of borrowers. Ninths Coming here 
to read them — no, to make me do it for you, solely from 
laziness, and the inconsiderate folly, of taking to glasses, 
before steady enough to remember where you put 
them. 

G. hTot so, they were lying safely, “ out of the way,” 
in my pocket, all the while. 

L. So much the worse — very unjustifiable artifice ! 
Thank you not to practice any more of your legerde- 
main upon me. Really sir, you must mend your morals, 
I shall not connive at such duplicity ; but believe that 
is all — think I have done. 

G. Time too, if I am to sit quietly by, and be as- 
persed, and caricatured after this fashion. You serve 
me incomparably worse, than witches do their prayers ; 
and take not the slightest cognizance of my anxiety to 
guard your health, consult your taste, and ward off cox- 
combs, Tom Kids, and other detrimentals ; nor even of 
my self-sacrificing eiforts to become perfectly au fait 
to all in which you w^ere interested. 

L. Mille ^ardonnes^ I should have itemized that ! 
It isn’t too late now — Article Tenths moral scavengering, 
alias tale-gathering — highly reprehensible in a lady, but 
very commendable in a gentleman, it comports so well 
with his dignity. 

G. Have done, if that’s the most graphic epithet 
you can accord to my uncommon fortitude, in taking 
myself out of your sight, for two whole months, to 


186 


TRIAL OF A T'LIET. 


make acquaintance with your old rejected, for reasons 
which shall be nameless. ^ Dare say now you haven’t 
the remotest conception of my object, but try for once, 
if you can’t imagine something better than you have 
divined as yet. 

L. Hazarding conjectures, would be a pure piece 
of supererogation, when you have already admitted 
that you did it “ con amore^'^ as — I suppose — do all un- 
official news-carriers, or we should have less gratuitous 
tattling, in the world. 

G, Complimentary! Do you suppose you could 
produce such another gem of the kind, upon fair occa- 
sion ? 

L, Why yes, I rather think I might, under favor- 
able auspices, if you wish it. 

G. Thank you— I’ll not trouble you just now ; but 
can you tell no better, wJiy I have cross-examined you, 
so this morning^ 

Z. To keep in practice, I presume, though it’s so 
perfectly in character, I hadn’t thought it at all strange ; 
if there’s any mystery in it, think a solution might 
be found, in the old nursery rhyme, “ For Satan finds 
some mischief still for idle hands to do.” It’s to be 
hoped, he’ll be properly sensible of your extraordinary 
merits— he seldom finds, I fancy, a hand willing to do 
as much drudgery, for so little pay. 

G, {Bowing very profoundly) That will answer ! 
So now if you have any more of these spicy fiowers of 
rhetoric on hand, please reserve them for future use, 
{aside) to embellish a curtain lecture for instance— and 
listen to my version. I have intermeddled as you are 


TRIAL OF A FLIRT. 


187 


pleased to imply, solely to ascertain on what rocKs my 
predecessors split, so* that I might avoid them. 

L. Time lost, and labor ill bestowed ! Many a no- 
ble craft has been wrecked, on shoals not laid down in 
any chart. 

G, If mine fails to reach port, it shall not be for 
want of a gallant effort, on the part of the helmsman. 

L. Adverse gales sometimes drive the boldest out 
to sea — the safest place I opine, when the atmosphere 
is hazy, and the coast uncertain. 

G, As well to go down in sight of shore, as be 
driven off beyond moorings, to perish in the wide waste 
of waters. 

L. “ The sea, the sea, the open sea ” — any place for 
me but a lee shore in a gale. * 

G. Certes, you can’t intend showing me up, as you 
did Sir Frisky, or you’d never throw so much “ cold 
water ” upon me, there’s some comfort in that ; and 
hy’r lady,” “I do think I espy some small signs o’ 
grace in you.” 

L. Quite likely — most gentlemen, I believe, are 
gifted with “ those optics keen, which see what is not 
to be seen,” on these occasions. 

G. Mary, my darling, don’t quiz me now — any 
other time, but not now ! 

L. I am not quizzing you ! 

G. For the love of heaven (starting to his feet and 
pacing the floor in considerable agitation) do not say, 
that you mean to reject me, Mary ! 

L. Certainly not if I can help it ; I have no wish 
to incur your hostility; but really do intend giving 
you full leave to withdraw your proposition, whenever 
you please. 


188 


• TKIAL OF A FLIRT. 


G, Answer me candidly, Mary, as you liope for 
mercy, liere and hereafter I Is tliere anything in my 
age, person, any irrermdiahle circumstance in short, 
from which your own native instincts, involuntarily 
recoil ? 

L. There is not. 

G. Blessings on you for that one word, Mary ! And 
now, it does not please me to 'withdraw ; I shall not 
avail myself of your permission. E’othing hut the most 
determined negative, shall deter me from persisting to 
the last extremity ! I fight under no masked battery, 
fairly and frankly do I ask you to become my 'svife. 
AVhat were it to me^ to say, “ I was not rejected,” when 
conscious I was not accepted ? I have no false pride 
to t)e so propitiated, and do I not know, yours^ would 
scorn to boast, even by implication, of an offer deemed 
good only for rejection? If otherwise, what were it to 
me, that the world might smile at, or pity my failure, 
where I had most garnered up my hopes of happiness ? 
Would it soothe the bitterness of disappointment, to 
feel, that no one knows, and no one cares? Not to 
me, nor do I comprehend that unmanly feeling, which 
converts the lover to the foe, of one faultless to him, 
but for the one painful conviction, that the prize is not 
for him. 1 should never descend to the dastardly sys- 
tem of subterfuge, by which some endeavor to evade, 
or avenge refusal — it is a base encroachment on woman’s 
simple, negative rights and withal, a most contemptible 
piece of puppyism ! 

L. It is a weakness, I always considered it such, in 
one, who take him for all in all, I shall not see his 
like again;” but in his case, it was diffidence, and 


TRIAL OP A FLIRT. 


189 


overweening estimate, not of himself, but others. Still 
he IS all noble—wantonlj wronged, insulted and ag- 
grieved, as he feels himself to be, or have been ; no 
word of censure, or derision ever passes Us lips, and 
but for the honest indignation of those whom I honor 
for their dislike, the fact had never transpired at all. 

G. It IS even so— you say nothing but the truth, 
and his j^raises, I would gladly hear, from any lips but 
yours;— but do not think to fright me with the ghost 
ot a buried jealousy. Do I not know, that unless fully 
conscious of your own ability to do ample justice, in 
your own high measure, to another, you had never 
contracted an after alliance ? 

L. 1 erhaps ! Still others, might fare no better for 
the comparison. 

O. You did find one, it seems, to pass even that or- 
deal, why not another ? 

L. Only seemed to pass, when weighed in the bal- 
ance he was ‘‘ found wanting.” 

G. His successor, will take a hint from Brennus, 
unless he can find a fiaw, in that standard of perfection! 

L. Have a care— while you are investigating his 
short-comings, another eye may be scanning your own. 

G. Well thought on — a keen and practiced one too, 

I find— so the “ sword,” is my only resource ; but what 
shall it be ? 

L. Beally can’t say wherein, you are so much bet- 
ter than you should be, as to atone for deficiencies, 
where you are not so good. 

G. That’s not the question at all, I only propose to 
adjust the balance of power, between him and myself 
— will nothing less than personal considerations an- 
swer ? 


190 


TRIAL OF A FLIRT. 


L. Nothing less — ^your purse can’t come in — don’t 
think of the thing. 

G. Suppose then, I pit my orthodoxy, on a certain 
point, against his heterodoxy — will not that make a 
sliglit turn of scales in my favor ? 

L. On THAT subject, I must confess your sentiments 
to be, all that is manly, and honorable. 

G. ‘‘ On that subject ! ” .And have you ever heard 
aught to intimate, that there were others, on wdiich 
they were not ? 

L. I have ! 

G. And you, with your consummate scorn for idle 
rumor, will you allow, an “it is said,” to prejudice 
your feelings or bias your judgment ? 

L. There would be no lack of precedent, if I should. 

G. You will, at least, do me the justice to say what 
it is, you have heard of me, that impresses you so un- 
favorably. I am not aware of being particularly vul- 
nerable; but know the slightest elevation above the 
canaille of high life^ as well as low, is sure to attract 
the shafts of calumny. 

L. If detraction be the inevitable consequence of 
distinction, then to the best of my knowledge and be- 
lief, you are not distinguished — I never recollect to 
have heard a really disparaging word of you, in my life. 
Lay that “ flattering unction to your soul ! ” 

G. Or that axe^ to the root of my vanity. Small 
ne6d though — if you are to use your pruning-knife 
much longer, after this fashion, there will be neither 
root, nor branch of it to be found. But how is this % 
When I ask if you have heard aught prejudicial, you 
answer frankly, yes^ when I ask what you have heard 


trial of a flirt. 


191 


of me, you politely insinuate, that I am too insimifi- 
cant, for animadversion ! 

Z. What a pattern reporter you would make— such 
a mirac e of accuracy I If this, is a sample though, 
you might do for the public, but no lady, would ever 
trust you with a message to her milliner. 

G. I sincerely hope not ; but you continually evade 
he subject. Will you not favor me, with something a 
little less enigmatical ? 

your sapiency discern, the 
difference between heard and “heard 0/,” or are 
you altogether impervious to such nice distinctions? 

G. ISTot quite If properly elucidated, I think they 
might come within the range of my comprehension. 
But begging ten thousand pardons for my stupidity, I 
really did not observe the slight variation of phraL- 
ology. 

L. And begging just one, it was not “slight,” but 
important ; it is these “ slight variations'^ which make 
BO much mischief in the world. 

G. Yery true. And now dearest and best, will you 
not say, what remark I have made, what theory ad- 
vanced, or principle advocated, that you consider so 
very reprehensible ? 

L. Certainly, I will. You remember Mr. B.’s client, 
in Washington last winter, and how coldly he advocated 
her cause ? So coldly, that his irascible, but warm- 
hearted adversary indemnified himself for acting in 
short-lived concert, by hurling at him, the withering 
sarcasm, “ I congratulate the gentleman on having at 
last raised his voice in the cause of humanity— should 
such a phenomenon again occur, it is to he hoped^ his 
HEART may be allowed to go along with it.” 


192 


TBIAL OF A FLIRT. 


(J. I remember her well, or rather her cause, hut 
what has either to do with the subject in question? 

L, Much ! Have you no suspicion why her Advo- 
cate managed her case so indifferently ? 

Cr. Hone whatever. It certainly was not Irom mer- 
cenary apprehensions — ^perhaps he thought it too low 
for his ambition. 

L. His antagonist found in it, no want of eclat^ when 
he fairly took the measure out ot his hands, and carried 
it over his head ; demolishing, by one master-stroke, 
the barriers of party spirit and personal prejudice, and 
“ resting his cause^ on the better nature of the House ! ” 

G. Indeed he did not, the whole body was electri- 
fied, and when he closed that brief and thrilling appeal, 
re-offering the Resolution as his own, full fitty members, 
of all parties, were on the fioor to second him, when he 
had done. It was a scene worth witnessing, and made 
me think better of the “ collective wisdom,” than I had 
done for months before. I know too, that B. was stung 
to the soul, and others “ vexedf that “ his jphlegm ” 
should have thrown such “ golden opinions,” into the 
lap of a political rival ! Hot I, he that could win, 
should be welcome to wear them, for me ; but for the 
latent cause of all this, I have not the shadow of a con- 
jecture, unless — as I half suspect, now that I do refiect 
on certain little, pithy condiments, rather hard of diges- 
tion, served up wdth hlanc mange^ syllabubs, and other 
insipidities — it originated iw personal pique I 

L, Found at last, yet you, have no compunctions ? 

G, I — ^no — why should I? 

L. Because that careless “ on dit ” of yours, was 
the cause, and sole cause of all this. 


TRIAL OF A FLIRT. 


193 


(7. What, a mere my I should have buried 
and forgotten long ago, had not your friend’s generous 
alchemy, converted a seemingly indefinite stricture, into 
a Iona fide compliment, and embalmed it, by her grace- 
lul tact ! You do not mean to say that was the cause ? 
L. I do mean to say that very thing. 

G. Could a man like B. he so infiuenced, by a 
‘‘ trifle light as air,” and tliat too, after what was in all 
probability the original purjyort^ of an equivocal com- 
ment, had been so restored ? Surely it is not possible 1 
L. It is true^ nevertheless. And you should have 
thought of all this — of all the minds, “ wax to receive 
and marble to retain,” before risking such an impres- 
sion on his, as had well nigh destroyed the last hope of 
a mother, dying of “ hope deferred ” far from children, 
and home, and with the perfect consciousness, that 
every hope of justice for them, expired with her exist- 
ence ! 

G. {sadly) And was I to blame for that life-destroy- 
ing procrastination, had her suit finally miscarried, 
would it have been my work ? Do not tell me, I have 
been so imprudent — so guilty f 

L, “ Guilty,” 3^es ; \i\\.t imprudent^'* Go^no. ‘‘Tlie 
better part of valor is discretion,” and what better safety 
valve could be found for wit, or spleen, than a sick, 
isolated woman, with neither youth, nor wealth on 
which to rely, without husband, father, brother, kith 
or kin to protect her ? Why any varlet might have in- 
sulted her, with perfect impunity ! And yet, my 
Father would have said, that that very helplessness 
should have been to her, a shield mightier than bul- 
warks, or armies; but then he was an old-fashioned 
9 


194 


TRIAL OF A FLIRT. 


man, who could hardly find it in his heart, to desert a 
wrong course^ if he happened to discover that it was a 
falling one first ! And I — I, am his daughter ; and 
antiquated enough, to feel too, that her utter defence- 
lessness, sliould have appealed, with a voice of omnipo- 
tence, to the heart of every man, that had a man’s 
heart in his bosom I 

G. And so it ought, but why should you think I 
sought her wrong? Our interests never clashed, we 
never met, I could have had no j^ersonal antipathies, 
wliy should I wish to harm her? It was purely, an 
unguarded expression. 

L. And what if it was the mere effervescence of 
idlenesss, the very wantonness of caprice — does that 
justify an unprovoked attack, did it avert or ameliorate 
the consequence ? 

G. Alas no ; but indeed, I did not dream of all this. 

L. A gentleman, should have felt it. 

G. A gentleman? 

L. Yes, ‘‘ a gentleman ! ” Your genealogies may 
prove you well born, the demonstrations of your own 
spirit alone, can show you noble, and here we have one 
of its developments. Magnanimous, very, to select the 
hour of sickness and utter prostration, to alienate the 
few friends that might yet remain to an impoverished 
woman, in a strange city — chivalrous, was it not ? 

G. Scoff on, I deserve it all — and yet you might 
spare, nw own reproaches are bitter enough. 

Z. It is well they are. 

G, Can you not forgive me ? 

L. That is not mine to do, but can you forgive your- 
self? 


TKIAL OF A FLIRT. 


195 


G, 'No, but gladly will I seek her forgiveness, and 
do all in my power to atone. 

L. Her forgiveness ! hers — seek it of your Maker, 
slie, is in her grave. 

G. Dead, impossible ! 

L. How long since, has it been impossible for mor- 
tals to die? 

^ G. Gone, gone, and my hand helped to strew her 
pillow with thorns^ — God help and forgive me ! 

L. Amen ! And all thanks too, to that “Divinity 
that shapes our ends, rough hew them how w^e will.” 
She died, at last, among.the children her untiring per- 
severance had rescued from beggary, when every other, 
earthly hope had died within her. 

G. Heaven be praised for that, and you, you, I 
think, might tell if you chose, the secret of that total 
and sudden reverse. So sudden, that even B. was, if 
possible, more astonished and bewildered, than morti- 
lied, at the change. 

L. I do choose. It was your gold, and Mrs. A.’s 
influence. 

G. Hot to mention your own ; but my gold, mine? 

L. Yes. Do you not remember loaning a rather 
large sum, that was not repaid, until those claims were 
settled ? 

G, I recollect a decided inclination to murder some- 
body in the newspapers, about that time, that should 
leave a certain fair friend of mine, a handsome legacy, 
though I couldn’t exactly manage it — the reimburse- 
ment, was only associated in m3^ mind with one collat- 
eral, ^^what business had that officious, puj>py of a 
cousin, to be the bearer f ” It was for her then ? 


196 


TKIAL OF A FLIRT. 


Z. Yes, we could have done without, but took a 
malicious pleasure, in making your wealth build up, 
what your hand, had so thoughtlessly stricken down. 
And for the rest, innocent, good-natured pets, with no 
brains to trouble about any presumptuous cui hono^ are 
sometimes useful, as well as amusing. 

G. Possibly, but for “malicious,’’ say henevolent^ 
and God bless you, forever and ever, for that, Mary ; 
but why did you not confide in me, at the time ? 

L. To what end — she was living then, and had you 
met, (as met in that case you must,) “ a curious^ and 
jyeculiar disposition^^^ with your own derogatory signi- 
fication annexed, would have been the first thing upper- 
most, in your mind, despite your own admission, that 
you “ caught the expression flying,” and Mrs. A.’s illus- 
trations, of the very “ curious and peculiar ” use, and 
application of that phrase, by its real author. You 
men, are doubly unjust to woman. The lightest breath 
suffices to raise up a wall of adamant between her and 
your sympathies, and then, never till the grave has 
closed over her sorrows, and her wrongs, do you regret 
the one, or commiserate the other ? 

G. Alas, that is too true, in the abstract, I fear ; but 
forgive me Mary {resuming once more his place hy her 
side) — think better of me too, if you can, and never 
again will I be guilty of such thoughtless injustice to 
man, or woman ! You have given me a lesson I shall 
not soon forget. 

L. Never, I hope. 

G, Then if you do wish it to be salutary — • 

Z. It must not be lightly withdrawn. 

G, Never, oh never ! You must go along with it, 


TRIAL OF A FLIRT. 


197 


who else could so enforce, or recall it, should it ever be- 
come indistinct? AVho else, so reduce the sublime in 
theory, to the simple in practice ? Mart, my child, I 
need the light of your example. 

L. Of a nobler, and better you mean, for I too need 
a guide, not a disciple, and therefore we must part. It 
is not, that my mind docs not freely recognize in yours, 
its superior in knowledge, in thought, and in intellect, 
but I want more than these. I want the deep and 
abiding conviction, that in mingling soul with soul, I 
approach still nearer to the source of immortal purity ! 

G. My child, my beloved child — for dear tome, 
are you as a daughter, though 1 woo you for a wife — ■ 
you must not hope for this ! It is one of earth’s vain, 
vain dreams. “Woman, a child of morning then, a 
spirit still compared to men,” mmt not hope^ to find a 
nature purer than her own, unless “ the sons of God,” 
were indeed, literally, to come down and wed with 
“ the daughters of men ; ” — but though I may not irra- 
diate youT spirit wfith the beams of a higher efifulgence, 
I can at least forbear to darken it, with the shadow of 
mine. I will endeavor to illuminate that, by the splen- 
dor of 3^our own. 

L. By a far higher, I hope ! 

G. I dare not lay my unhallowed hand, on the sa- 
cred mysteries of that inner temple, but may I not be 
trusted, to guard its portals from the intrusion of auglit 
less holy ? Will you not confide to my keeping, the 
fragile vase, that enshrines so rich a gem ? Is it noth- 
ing, to be once more imderstood, appreciated, beloved ? 
Think w^ell of it Mary, think soberly, and do not again 
say me nay ! 


198 


TKIAL OF A FLIKT. 


L. And must all mj proud thoughts, and high as- 
pirings, come to this ? 

G, Even so. “ Earth has no heart, fond dreamer- 
witli a tone, to give thee back the richness of thine 
own, seek it in heaven ! ’’ But remember while you 
do so, that your pathway lies on earth ; and where, 
where in its mazes will you find a truer, a more de- 
voted guide % 

Z. Nowhere now, alas, on earth I fear; but oh, 
could I feel assured, that “ the Law of the Lord enlight- 
ening the soul,” was written on your heart, how much 
more freely, could I yield this hand to your guidance. 

G, It will be, Mary, my own Mary — how can I 
ever cease to bless and adore Him, for this peerless 
gift? 


CHURCH BROKERS IN THE NEW JERUSALEM. 


God’s temples below, we have modelled quite right, 

No toil- weary foot ever enters to pray. 

For the seats are all sold, and closed very tight — 

The “ Prince of the air,” take intruders, I say. 

The travel-soiled stranger, that stops for the night, 

Must spend as he can, the Lord’s holy day. 

Sleep, revel, or travel, well knowing we might. 

Stare him out of our pew, if in he should stray. 

In the city above, as I understand. 

The streets are all sparkling with “ sapphire and gold,” 
And I think we must take some pre-emption land. 

Before the best lots are ev’ry one sold. 

A number one site, at the court-end of town — 

To be mixed up with “ all sorts ” I couldn’t abide, 

And Saint Peter, I think, should knock them all down, 
When over such pavements they offer to stride. 

That the church is exquisite, I haven’t a doubt. 

That the music’s superb, I’ve often been told — 

How on earth shall we get the nuisances out. 

If the choicest of pews already are sold ? 

“ Oh those antiques can’t know, or care a French sow, 
What pews would be nice for people of station, 

And I think we are ‘ some,’ and can ‘ do ’ 

The old Fuges out by ‘ sharp operation,'' 


200 CHURCH BROKERS IN THE NEW JERUSALEM. 


There’s room for all codgers, I fancy, somewhere ” — 
Sincerely do hope it’s outside of the door. 

And the portals well barred, and guarded with care ; 

This nudging of dowdies, is no little bore. 

A clodpole in Homespun, to come and sit down. 

At great marriage-feast of the “ Lamb and his spouse — • 
Oh jprocul^ 0 procul — an angel would frown. 

If the down on his plume were brushed by a blouse. 

If that sort of thing were to happen indeed, 

Don’t know, on the whole, as I very much care — 

That is, if I do go, perhaps there is need. 

To learn something more, how they manage up there. 

The chifrch,‘as we all know, is built on a rock. 

The city itself, a mos-t splendid affair. 

But ere we invest very much in the stock. 

Hadn’t we better send some one up, and enquire ? 

Yes, glow-worms of earth, there is very much need, 

That more you should learn of that city above. 

Exclusives in Christ, will you never take heed, 

That his smile is its light. His spirit is Love ? 

Church Brokers, think where^ money-changers once brought 
Their Doves and their Tables. Sharp dealers in gold. 
And bold sinners they were ; but they never thought 
God’s Temple, itself^ could be bought, and be sold. 

Feh., 1858. 


L. L. M. J. 


CENSORIA LICTOEIA 


OF 


F^OTS A.ND FOLKS, 


FROM THE NOTES AND MINUTES OF MISS BETSEY TROl 
WOOD’S OFFICIAL TOUR UNDER THE FRANK 
PIERCE DYNASTY. 


BY 

LOUISE ELEMJAY, 

I! * 

AUTHOR OF “LETTERS AND MISCELLANIES.” 


“An old Roman Censor, or Dictator, had, if memory serves, twenty-four followers, 
or Lictors, whose duty (in part) it was to apprehend and punish offenders. Now 
with her pen for her fasces, Louise Elemjay would, we apprehend, serve for a full 
Lictoria outfit, being equal in power to twice twenty-four chaps with rods in their 
bands. She holds a facile and caustic pen.”— Buff. Expeess. 


EIGHTH EDITION. 

REVISED AND ENLARGED, 


NEW YORK: 

JOHN F. TROW, PRINTER STEREOTYPER, 379 BROADWAY, 

CORNER OF WHITE STREET. 

1869 


•9725 


Enteeed, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by 
E. M. KINGSLEY, FOR THE AUTHOE, 

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 
District of New York. 


TO ONE 

WHOSE EPISTOLARY TALENTS FEAR NO OOMPETITION, 

WHOSE MAGNANIMITY RESIGNS A PERSONAL PATRON TO PUBLIO WANT,- 


WILKINS MICAWBER; 


WHOSE GRANDISONIAN ELOQUENCE, MORE EVEN THAN HIS OWN 
SUCCESSFUL EMIGRATION, 

BATE TO OCCIDENTAL HUMANITY ITS PRESENT 

CENSOR ; 

these, her OFFICIAL AND ANTE-OFFICIAL 

RECORDS, 

ABSTRACTED, AS \JSUAL, BY THE CONFIDENTIAL SECRETARY, ARE NOW _ 

Post 

BY HIS ADMIRING AND HUMBLE DISCIPLE, THE 

HONORABLE SECRETARY, Aforesaid. 


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CONTENTS 


Pbeambilae Peroeation 

Kentucky 

Who’s to wear the Hats? 

Report of a self-installed Committee 

The Dark Hour 

The All-seeing Eye 

To my will-o-’wisp daughter, Fanny Fern 

Filial 

An Invalid’s Soliloquy 

To A Bride 

Logic and Deference 

Hew Lords, Hew Laws 

Did you ever ? 

The English is a Strong Language 

“ Why don’t the State of Maryland put him { Rev . Mr . S .) 

in Petticoats?” 

Alabama 

Woman’s Sphere. 

********* *• 

Charleston 

Clever Authoress 

Humber One and Humber Two 

Promising Patron 

Lay Sermon to Priest and Prelate 

Charity 

Hew Broom 

What a Book might be good for 

Cap for Heads that fit 

8 


PAOI 

7 

11 

12 

15 

19 

20 

20 

21 

23 

23 

24 

20 

26 

27 

31 

32 

33 

44 

45 

47 

59 

59 

61 

62 

67 

68 


6 


CONTENTS. 


Puffs and Puffers 68 

Mrs. Grundy and Eastern Editor to Southern Author.. 71 

Southern' Author to Mrs. Grundy 71 

Valentine for the Louisville Journal 72 

Proxy Lecture 79 

Nominals only 80 

Light from on High 82 

Only a Slight Difference 83 

x\ny thing foe a Text 85 

Gertrude 93 

Jurisprudence Extra-Judicial 94 

A Voice for Alabama 96 

Caligeaphotype 97 

Saying and Doing! When and Where? 99 

Itemizing 101 

The Fugitive Eeturned 105 

Shorthand Hotes 106 

Pretentious, but “Spotted,” 109 

The Half-Breed’s Lecture to Paleface Young Ladies... 110 

Out West 116 

Those Nuptials 116 

Impeovisin Institutions 119 

The Old Fusion Committee ; or, That Duel 125 

Who Pays? 129 

Slantendioulars 130 

The Latest Outrage Yet 133 

Defining their Positions • 137 

Uncrowned 13 9 

Fishers of Men 141 

Charity And Ingratitude 142 

Parthian Arrows 150 

No Room I53 


PREAMBILAE PERORATION. 


Some inconsidcratG people ms/y expect we are going to 
apologize for making free with Miss Betsey^s bureau de 
police at this particular stage of her career ; and some 
few hardened old fogies, whose organs of veneration for 
modern manners, morals and tendencies, sadly need 
developing, might not care a hawhee, if we were to cast 
some such innuendo reflection on the honor and honesty of 
Young America's precedent-makers ; but thanks to those 
emancipated" souls, who have from time to time prac- 
tically maintained, in the teeth of vulgar prejudice, 
that all right in matters of interest lies not in the 
great heads that conceive, but the light-fingered hands 
that hold, or execute, we hnow better. 

Every thing for all (that can get it), that's our 
Uncle Sam's motto ; but how is said all to get it, if any 
body's got any right to keep any thing back that any 
body else wants ? It's clearly a conspiracy against the 
peace and dignity of all his “ free and enlightened," 
for when people want a thing, they want it ; trust a 
traitor to put his own papers in apple-pie order, and see 


8 


PKEAMBILAR PERORATION. 


if he don't slip out, or burn up the very ones you want : 
and, besides, what good will it do a man going on a trip 
to-day y if Mr. Dick and the missing papers should turn 
up to-morrow ? Won't he have to be picked up next 
day, and acquit the engine on the morrow ? Of course 
he will ; and the fact is, he ought to have had these, 
and more besides, long ago ; and would, too, if our su- 
perfluous, but well-meaning, hard-working Master Mel' 
hadn't been intercepted, and somewhat crippled, by the 
senseless kickings and cavortings of one of those old 
beggars on horseback," that never can be easy to ride 
on their way, without riding down every thing else. 
However, he'll find the ingenious operation of biting 
off his own nose to spit'e his face," pleasant and profit- 
able, perhaps, some day ; and the unlucky ad inter, 
with his gallant, but ill-omened name, has rotated now, 
and we've taken abundant precautions that there's to be 
“ no more of that." Miss Betsey may chafe at having 
to buy another new veil, but knows very well we've got 
all her records in such “ a fix,” that nobody else ever 
could decipher ten consecutive words ; a simple and effi- 
cacious plan for holding on,” that we should take 
great pleasure in recommending to other secretaries and 
office-holders, only that most of them, it is believed, 
practise upon it already. True, it has this little incon- 
venience, we can't always make it out ourselves ; and 
when one line's contumacious, another has to go down. 
This rather amalgamates styles ; and one of the parties 
being forestalled in his designs, may take advantage of 
it, to pretend our version isn't genuine ; but if any body 
doubts it, let him come and see if we haven't got his 


PREAMBILAR PERORATION. 


9 


first drafts, and others, too, belonging apparently to no 
particular person or place, but evidently smuggled in by 
some supernumerary scion, or candidate on trial. 

It IS extremely mortifying, though, that we can’t 
tell all inquiring minds a great deal more about our 
chiefs private history than she knows herself ; she never 
did like being catechised, you know, but from all that 
we can learn, worthy Mr. Micawber, with a disinterest- 
edness above all praise, directed her attention to this 
continent about the time of the last presidential elec- 
tion, and persuaded her to be on hand in case ''any 
thing should turn up.” Accordingly, we find her here 
soon after all Bonnetdom went " a-crabbing ; ” and it was 
hoped, the sight of her " respectable ” old beaver might 
arrest its course before it got quite back to Mrs. Eve’s 
fig-leaf , but, unfortunately, a due regard for personal 
safety, and great horror of having to set her clogs in 
every predecessor’s footsteps, compelled her, not only to 
muffle it in a double veil of deep-blue mystery, but even 
forego its " insane tilt,” and her own patronymic, in 
order to escape being torn limb from linjb by those peer- 
less jackals, apes, and other " varmints,” always on the 
look-out for some foreign lion ! 

The election — much to " glorification ” discomfiture 
— turned up Frank Pierce ; and much to the credit 
of his sagacity, and Mr. Micawber’s forecast. Miss Bet- 
sey’s unique talents were soon put in requisition. 

Fortunately, the official duties chimed in admirably 
with her own inclination to see what nobody else goes to 
see, and knowing that things are to names as nothing to 
one, she continues up to this very day passing up and 


10 


PREAMBILAR PERORATION. 


down (for the most part very quietly), under her ob- 
scure cognate ^ catching morals and manners without 
their holiday hats and ‘‘ Sabba-dy cloaks on, takin 
notes,'' and dispensing meed and dreed, “ all fearlessly 
and free," where the first inkling of her distinguished 
name would bring whole troops of Philistines, if not Bar- 
num's show-case, down upon her to “put her through" 
the grand paces, as they did Samson of old ; bury hei 
“ five-fathom deep " in hoodwink and “ flummery,' 
her especial abomination ; and, what is worse, deprive 
Mrs. Grundy, “ and all the rest of mankind," of the 
great pleasure of knowing what she really does think of 
the “ chief estates" and little-greats in Uncle Sam's 
and St. Picayune's guessing, gasing, reeling, scrambling, 
nomadic, stampeding jurisdictions. 

Louise Elemjay, Sec. 


New Yobk, Dee. 20«A, 1864 


CENSORIA LICTORIA. 


KENTUCKY. 

Kentucky's slopes are green and fair, 
Kentucky's hearts are warm and brave ; 

And living gems of beauty rare, 

Crown crest and cliff and woodland wave ; 

And deep-toned notes of sympathy — 

Worthy the land of sacred dust — 

Have cheered a heart whose prayer shall he, 

God guard thee well, and thou — thy trust ! 

Lu 

Deennon Speings, Augmt Ist ^ 1852. 

Alas, alas ! that blood should dye thy honored shore, 
Home of the noble, beautiful and true — ^Ashmore ! 

L. E. 


1864. 


12 


family PAPEllS AND 


“WHO’S TO WEAR THE HATS?” 

“ Who Why, you, to be sure ! Who else do you 
suppose ? Hone of your figure-heads over my top-gal- 
lant rigging, I thank you ! Take your hat V’ — not I. 
The clumsy, ill-conditioned, shocking bad'' old tar- 
paulin, keep it yourself! 

“ But just to oblige." And haven't I obliged, I 
should like to know, till I've taken on more freight from 
Messrs. Cotton-Bale, Dry-Groods & Co., than I can make 
good headway under in fair weather — want to see me 
swamped, don't you ? “ Make such capital ballast ! " 

Glad to hear it — put it right on — don’t know any body 
that needs it more. Won’t tvear the things — hateful, 
ridiculous !" — ‘ Stove-pipe hats,’” eh ! Think to get 
rid of them, don't you ? No use. Hats were made to 
wear — somebody's got to wear them, and I shan’t 
Stupid, ugly, ill-contrived, unmanageable things 1 " 

Then who but you should wear them ? Great, 
awkward, stiff, intolerable bores ! " Don’t see but they 
fit you very well. But that’s only because, ma'am, 
you're use’ to seeing us together." Don’t often see y^ou 
without, that's a fact. Wonder if you sleep in them — 
expect you can't — dare say that's the very reason now 
you've fallen out with them. 

“ So ‘ hard and hot and heavy ' — ruin your beautiful 
bonnet, ma'am, if they should happen to fall on it.'' 
Can’t help it, none of your blarney — want to throw them 
away, and ruin all the hatters in the world, don’t you ? 
Shan't allow it, I tell you ! 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


13 


If you would only listen to reason \ Will, when 
I think there's any chance of hearing it. Oh, then, 
you see, madam, such a constant pressure on the region 
of the brain " — don't fill up the vacancy — of course not 
— anybody can see that. 

But it might produce torpor, or inflammation." 

^‘Nought's never in danger" — got on your grand- 
mother's double-wrapper now — want to poke your head 
into her nightcap too. Can't have it ; distinctions 
must be kept up, else how should we know which was 
which ? 

Oh, just as easy, ma'am" — Just as easy, I don't 
doubt, as you could have told, a year or two ago, what 
sort of pedal annexations ladies did have, if they had 
been cruel enough to shove them into pantalets like 
children or squaws ; or break the whalebones and 
straitlaces of pious, peripatetic old Mrs. Koundhead, 
and fall back into the costume of her worthy neighbor, 
good, quiet, stay-at-home Mrs. Knickerbocker ; — eking 
it out with some sort of mufllers in compliment to the 
quaint, though rather irreverent sneers, of her classic 
historian. No, no — don't forget old friends and past 
kindness — my turn now — bound to keep you (far as in 
me lies) from making yourself ridiculous ; so just make 
yourself easy with what you have got, and never say 
CAPS to me again. 

But they are so much lighter and more comforta- 
ble ? " Can't have them, I tell you, without the bells — 
don't dream of abandoning you to your own discretion 
in matters of such vital importance. Yield the head- 
gear, you'll be after my parasol and bib-and-tucker next. 


14 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


Fact is, I believe I have seen you with the latter already 
(though it might he only the skirt of an infant's robe 
you had tucked under your vest when you couldn't get a 
decent shirt-bosom), and no doubt but you'd distinguish 
yourself as Mistress of Eobes and Holder of the Grir- 
dle " to a whole harem of ballet-dancers ; but do you 
suppose I'm going to look at any such frights ? 

“ Oh, that's all in habit, if you were only once used 
to them " — But I'm not used to them, and I don't want 
to be used to them, and I'm not going to be used to 
them ! Haven't I got used to the hats, and do you sup- 
pose I'm going the trouble all over again ? 

But HATS are so heavy and unhealthy ! " 

What if they are, haven't you got used to them ? 

If you'd only consider " — ^And who ever knew you to 
consider any thing but how to curl a moustache, flourish 
a rattan, and twirl an opera-glass ? Consider," in- 
deed — set you up to consider ! 

‘'But if you 'please, ma'am"— I tell you I donH 
please, I don't mean to please, and what's more, I never 
will please, so shut up with your fool-whim, put on jom 
hat, and go about your business, or sit down and dress 
this French doll, you exquisite little man-milliner you ! 

Nice articles, you and the likes of you, to missionate 
women into “ wives and mothers," and can't trust them 
to mind their own skirts, and won't let alone stove-pip^ 
ing and abusing your own hats ! “ Janet Donkeys 1 ' 

Betsey Trotwood. 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


13 


REPORT 

Of the self-installed Committee of The Teansoendental Philan- 
theopt-Expoetation Society, prospectively convened^ to talce 
into consideration the spirit-stirring humanity appeal of Eng- 
land's Mrs^ Jellyhys^ to the Ladies of America: 

Most Elevated Transcendentals : 

Your Committee having met, according to appoint- 
ment, in the Hall of Imagination, resolved itself into 
the most fitting exponent of snper-empyrean benevo- 
lence, and agreed that onr benevolence always intensi- 
fies most and flourishes best when its object is in any 
body^s reach but our own, did proceed to resolve as 
follows : 

First — That whereas, facts and figures do materially 
impede the march of Transcendental Progress, it is here- 
by RESOLVED to disclaim, repudiate, and refuse to recog- 
nize as belonging to the human species, any specimen 
of the genus homo who shall decline to aid and abet, 
to the extent of his ability, in dethroning Statistics, 
Official Investigations, Parliamentary Reports and Scien- 
tific Demonstrations from their usurped supremacy over 
the mind of man ; and install in their place the very 
reliable lucubrations of that profoundly erudite, incon- 
testably matter-of-fact and pre-eminently veracious 
class of historians, commonly known as novelists or 
romancers. 

Second — That in consideration of the important 
services rendered by these disinterested though ill-used 
evangelists of ‘^Liberty, Fraternity, and Equality,'" it is 
RESOLVED to request and advise all publishers to issue 


16 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


their works hereafter, not from love of filthy lucre," 
but free gratis/' for the good of the race •. and other 
sympathy-mongers to combine and endow a college of 
criticism, with a capital of fifty millions, and authority 
to award premiums of from five to fifty thousand per 
annum, to the more meritorious of these High Priests 
of Utopian Theology. 

Third — Be it also resolved. That your commander- 
in-chief for the Home Department he instructed to de- 
spatch suitable officers into the Interior, with orders to 
make full and impartial investigation into all the griev- 
ances, moral and physical, said to exist not only in the 
obscure streets, dens, lanes and alleys of the populous 
cities, but also in the mining, manufacturing, and agri- 
cultural districts of England, Scotland, and Ireland, and 
the adjacent Province of France, and suggest the most 
expeditious mode of redressing the same ; and the Sec- 
retary for Foreign Affairs authorized and otherwise em- 
powered to invite the distinguished Charles Dickens and 
Eugene Sue to lecture our humane and intelligent coun- 
trymen on the enormities perpetrated, without their 
privity or concurrence, in the Schools, Factories, Work- 
houses, Hospitals, garrets and cellars of Paris and Lon- 
don, and designate such of our eminent citizens as are, 
in their opinion, the most proper persons to interfere 
promptly and efficiently in the premises. 

Fourth — Being seriously apprehensive that a certain 
ultramundane region denominated Herschel is miserably 
deficient in light if not heat, this Committee do most 
unhesitatingly resolve to petition Congress immediately 
for a grant of five hundred millions to erect and furnish v 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


17 


Observatories through which all sympathizers can exam- 
ine critically into the state of that planet and the solar 
system generally ; and also to charter forthwith The 
G-rand Concentric Universe Gas Company, with 
full power to lay pipes, establish reservoirs, contract for 
moonshine, levy subscriptions, and appropriate the right 
of way throughout the entire extent of those ulterior 
dependencies ; Government being allowed to purchase 
one-half the whole stock in advance, at a premium of 
ten per cent., on condition that it give the President 
and Board of Directors carte blanche as to amount, and 
pledge itself to legalize and sustain all their acts and 
ordinances ah initio. 

Fifth — Having observed with extreme pleasure the 
affectionate inteiest which enlightened denizens of our 
Territory of Great Britain evince in all our domestic 
concerns, this Committee do unanimously resolve that 
the said Territory is now worthy to be, and hereby is, 
elevated by brevet to the rank and dignity of a Sove- 
reign Independent State, with all the rights, privileges, 
and immunities, present and prospective, appertaining 
to any other member, oriental or occidental, now, or 
hereafter to be admitted into this grand confederacy ; 
in ratification whereof this Committee tenders in behalf 
of society, the right hand of fellowship and fraterniza- 
tion to the right honorable and well-beloved transatlantic 
sisters and confreres, so nobly ambitious of competing 
with us the honor of re-organizing the whole social and 
material system. 

finally — Be it resolved that this Committee do 
now adjourn, repair to the Pantheon of all Abstractions, 


18 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


submit these resolutions, and ask to be discharged from 
further service. 

Fancy Toploftical, Chairman, 

The foregoing Kesolutions having been duly present- 
ed and passed by acclamation — the House previously 
resolving itself into Committe of the Whole for their 
reception — it was further resolved, 1st, That the Com- 
mittee be discharged with many thanks for its prompt 
and harmonious action, and very able and lucid exposi- 
tion of the precise views and objects of this Society ; 
and, 2d, That copies of these and the aforesaid resolu- 
tions be immediately transmitted to agents and coadju- 
tors in all parts of our jurisdiction ; and the Pulpit and 
Press, without distinction of sect or party, be invited 
and required, under penalty of our displeasure, to give 
them and the principles therein so luminously embodied, 
all the sanction, advocacy, and dissemination which their 
own intrinsic merit, and the exigency of the case, so im- 
periously demand. 

By order of the Board, 
Seraphina St. Cerulean, Pres. 

Transcendentia Eant, 

Corresponding Sec. and Amanuensis Extraordinary, 

Attested Copy. 

Lunatius Visionnaire, Recorder. f 

'if * Ut 

Capital hit, that of yours, Mr. Dick, getting me the 
first copy. Keep an eye on their proceedings ; but re- 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


19 


member what company you are in, and mind your king 
Charles' head. 

“ Shouldn’t wonder if Mrs. President had the Veiled 
Prophet's now ! ” 

Like enough. 

Betsey Trotwood. 


THE DARK HOUR 


I am. clean forgotten as a dead man out of mind , I am become like a broken 
resseL” 


Oh, my spirit's chord hath lost its tone, 
Hope's sparkling sands are running low. 

And the weary days, the long, the lone, 

Hone cares, alas, how soon they go 1 

Yet the Southern heart is warm and true 
As the seraph sheen on wing of light ; 

And like moon-kiss soft on honey-dew, 

J ust such is its smile of gentle light : 

But the stranger's heart is dark with woe, 
And the minstrel harp is all unstrung ; 

For unheeded falls that music's flow 
That falters on a stammering tongue. 

La Supeenumeraire. 


20 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


'‘THE ALL-SEEING EYE” 

Thou God seest ! Man may fail 
And crush the bruised reed till it break, 
Its quivering harpstring's dying wail 
For passion's lurid tempest take ; 

But Thou God seest all the soul ; 

Its crushing wrong, its dark des23air 
Is mirrored in thy open scroll, — 

A juster judgment waits us there ! 


TO 

MY WILL-O’-WISP DAUGHTEB, FANNY FERN. 

Fanny, my child, your mother does know you are 
out, hut means to let you have your own way, without 
any fuss, as all reasonable, well-behaved parents should, 
when they know they can't help themselves. 

But my dear, why don't you strike all round when 
you get the " cat " in your hand, instead of stopping 
short with a few ill-bred editors, whose mothers, poor 
spy things, never taught them the first princijiles of 
civilization. I don't half like such invidious distinc- 
tions. There's the whole tribe of " Itching Ears now, 
just listen at them, when they hapj^en to pounce on a 
suspected contributor, or get a real live author by the 
button ! One would think they'd bought him instead 
of his book or article, and ten to one if they didn't 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


21 


harrow that. And yet what a sweet howl they’d set up, 
if, after carefully folding down the page of a letter, you 
should deliberately turn it up and read every mortal 
syllable before their face and eyes. You might as well 
be at an Irish wake ; they wouldn’t stick to call you 
an unlicked cuh” and your respectable parentess a 
she hear” 

Hurting people’s feelings, I take to be the main ob- 
ject of blowing them up,” and when they haven’t any 
to hurt, it’s labor lost ; and ’twould break your dear 
little heart to see your venerable mother fatigue herself 
to no purpose ; but couldn’t you, honey, just give them 
a little oil of Lash ? Do now, that’s a good child ; and 
much oblige your dutiful mamma, 

Frances Fern, Sen. 

January^ 1853. 


FILIAL. 

“ Oh, annoyed are you ? Well, I told you so, 
with all your old frumpery notions about decorum, and 
delicacy and urbanity, just fit to rusticate with Chinese 
mandarins and Dutch burgomasters in some old land- 
scape garden. And good enough for you, too ; you 
never would learn to clear a brush fence and dash 
through a nettle patch properly ! ” 

Hush, Fanny, hush ! That isn’t the civil chat for a 
model mamma who knows her place and conducts 
so sensibly ! Grive ’em a little oil of Lash ? ” To be 
sure she can, or she’s no foster-sister of mine ; and if she 


22 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


won’t, I will. Any thing to oblige you, ma’am, so long 
as it chimes in with my own humor, and you keep quiet 
and treat your children respectfully ; so walk up here, 
every man, woman and child of you, and see if you 
don’t catch it. 

You’re a pretty looking set, now : hold up your head 
you omadhoun there ! It isn’t enough, is it, that every 
guessing, prying, keyhole editor in the land must be 
bragging that Mr. So-and-so, the inevitable Mr. So- 
and-so,” shook him by the paw, or walked into his sanc- 
tum, but you must infest the high seas to waylay and 
capture all innocent fugitives from notoriety ? Who 
gave you Letters of Marque” I should like to know, 
that you’ve any right to board a strange craft, and or- 
der the captain to stand and deliver a full and par- 
ticular” of his own private history, with that of the 
crew and all other cargo ? Haven’t got any, eh ? ” 
Thought as much — and, harkee, Mr. Scout, and you, 
too. Captain Itemizer Longbow, my wife’s cousin, Sour- 
krout Snapdragon, Esq., says he’s kin to old Judge 
Lynch, and thinks an unhung spy, unlicensed priva- 
teer, and poacher at large, little better than publio 
NUISANCES ! 

And here are you, too, modest Mrs. Dotell, with 
your old aunt. Eve Whatdoes ! Have you ever a Bible 
between you, with a word in it about Busybodies, and 
don’t you feel ashamed of yourselves now ? No, you 
don’t you haven’t got sense of propriety enough to feel 
ashamed of any thing ! It won’t be long before the 
whole tribe of you’ll be popping into my store, just to 
buy a shawl or borrow a calico dress, and then coolly 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


23 


expect me to furnish you a whole suit of underclothes, 
of the choicest superfine, from that down, free gratis ! 
You'd better, you had. 

Crab' the Second. 


AN INVALID’S SOLILOQUY. 

“ I had no place to flee unto, and no man cared for my soul I ” 

“ Judge not," some chain the willing footstep stays, 
Thy brother's heart, perhaps, is vexed with care : 

A sister knows not of the bitter days 

That thought sits brooding o'er its lone despair. 

Life, heat, how should they know how cold is death. 
How fiercely gasps the encoffined mind 
To catch once more the gush of living breath ? 

Lone, doubting heart, think better of thy kind ! 

Think yet again, oh thou of little faith. 

He lives, who ne'er forsakes, though all forget ; 

Love, Strength and Truth is pledged ! His bow 
‘^ihus saith” 

Serene and high, spans all the darkness yet. 

La Supernumeraire, 


TO A BRIDE. 

MRS. J. L. M., OF LOUISIANA. 

God bless the beautiful and young, 
God bless the weary, sad, and old ; 


24 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


I will not shame my poet's tongue 
By envy of thy double gold. 

Thy spirit's wealth is rich and rare, 

Th} life's young rose hath known no mould, 
And worthy thou of fate so fair : 

God keep thy heart from growing old ! 

L. L. 


LOGIC AND DEFERENCE. 

My grandmother ! " Well, what ? " ^‘Noth- 
ing, you old quiz, I didn't mean you, you know I didn't," 
says my eldest hope, “ but here's this newspaper, throw- 
ing up that crazy tomboy of a New York gal that went 
gallivantin in her brother's Sundaj’-s (more fool he not 
to wear 'em himself), and telling the ^prim spinsters 
and strong-minded matrons ' they didn't know ‘ what it 
was all a cornin' to ' when they were talking short skirts 
and ^ woman's rights.'' — Isn't it awful ? " 

Yes, very” replies my sensible mamma, and that 
isn't half— there's been a whole book printed about some 
Yankee she Debby that went a soldiering in the Revo- 
lutionary war, and got discharged, and married and pen- 
sioned ; and more, too, about one Joan of Arc, that they 
pretend went philandering up and down dressed in mail, 
and fighting on horseback more like a born fury than a 
decent, honest, Christian woman ; and got burned at 
last as a witch for her pains ! — You see they never do 
come to any good." 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


25 


Hold on there, old 'un, you're coming it a leetle 
too strong, that 'ere all happened before Bloomer and 
Convention were born ! " 

That doesn’t make a bit o' difference, sonny ; it's 
all owing to Mrs. Pantalets and Miss Strongminded. 
And that isn't the worst either, for ever since their dis- 
graceful outbreak passed with impunity, some other ri- 
diculous creatures — ambitious snips of tailors or clothiers 
no doubt — have been suspected of unlawful designs upon 
the heads of community ; and now it seems some bar- 
barous wretch has got this poor editor’s ^hat’ and you 
see yourself there isn't a particle of brains left ! " 

My eye, no there isn’t” says Crab' the third, 
chucking down his gourd-case with a decided ^ you don’t 
get my brains, see if you do ' air ; but do you know, 
old Specs, I wonder you and all the old fogies don't 
take up for Miss Convention and Mrs. Fillibuster ! " 

I take up for them ? I!” 

“ Yes, you ; why not They're the exact reverse 
of that swaggering, lying, ^ sack-imbibing old varlet,' 
Jack Falstaff ! " 

So they are, boy, so they are, for he was ^ not only 
witty himself, but the cause of wit in others ! ' Enough 
said." 

Eight smart boy, that, my son Crab' — if his granny 
doesn't spoil him ! 

Crab' the Second. 


2 


26 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


NEW LORDS, NEW LAWS. 

Miss Betsey’s Inaugural, March 1853. 
Inkhorns, Poundtexts, Compositionsticks : 

Attention, all of you ! Try and keep quiet, and 
walk a chalk, will you ? IVe got something else to do 
besides following you up all the while to keep you from 
making perfect sillies of yourselves ; but just let me 
catch you playing the fool with your “ little go/' stirring 
up, and perverting President Pierce's twenty-six battal- 
ions any where in this republic of letters, and see if I'm 
not down upon you with rod and lictor ! 

Betsey Trotwood, Censor. 


DID YOU EVER ? 

No, J never ! I really am ashamed of you — you, 
I mean, Mr. Editor — you, who sit on a three-legged 
stool ; you, to whom the people look up, to talk such 
bad grammar, and confound genders after this fashion ! 
Don't you actually know any better, or do you suppose 
your paper unfit for ladies' eyes, that you are always 
talking about your readers/' and say never a word 
about the readeresses ? 

Try and mend your ways, will you, and oblige this 
present writeress. 

Betsey Trotwood, Censor. 

* The old “ Standi ng Array” of William the testy, i. e., the 26 Letters of Alphabet. 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


27 


THE ENGLISH IS A STRONG LANGUAGE. 

Strong/’ no mistake about that ! — strong^ I should 
rather think it was, to be identified at this present, 
after all the hauling and puUing, and twisting and 
screwing, to make it ^^walk round about the truth, 
till there’s scarce a word with an inkling of its original 
signification left ! 

Here’s woman now, once it meant a companion 
meet ” for man, when man was made in the image of 
his Maker ; now, a poor vulgar creature made (for 
other people’s convenience) out of the refuse clay, unfit 
for the crystal and china wares of creation. Then, 
when this “ woman ” was lawfully married, she was the 
wife of her husband. And isn’t she now, pray ? ” 

Not a bit of it, sir ! She’s nothing in the world but 
his lady ; that is, some sort of feminine appendage — it 
may be his sister, his neighbor, his cousin, or it may 
be something else, not altogether so presentable ; so 
you’d better keep your eyes open, and make your own 
inferences — I can’t help you, though it’s evidently some 
incumbrance between him and the rest of the baggage. 

And Lady, too ; — old writers teU us it comes from 
lafdy, a contraction of laf, a loaf, and day, which signi- 
fied a loaf -giver ; that is, a domestic sort of personage 
rather given to benevolence and hospitality. Now, it 
neans a bundle of intense selfishness done up in “a 
mighty void of sense,” and moulded by fashion into a 
walking advertisement of more millinery, gewgaws, and 
other dr}^ goods — no matter whose or how come by — 
than any small craft could make good sail under, if she 


28 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


hadn't shipped more airs than would float a balloon. 
And then Gentleman 1 Time was when that meant 
“ a man without fear and without reproach,” now it 
means — shades of all the Bayards, what does it mean ? 

Well, I don't wish to be too critical, and the 
English certainly is a strong language and a copious, 
but it strikes me it can't quite come up to that defi- 
nition ! 

Here Miss Betsey — you've heard of my aunt Bet- 
sey Trot WOOD, the new censor, haven't you ? — gave 
an insane tilt of her beaver at my bundle of rods 
and fainted, just as one of the new specimens bawled 
out the name of another changeling, CHARiTY,Mn excuse 
for fagging a young girl to death, whose father he had 
swindled out of his last dollar, and into a drunkard's 
grave. 

I know it's no manner of use this tickling a rhi- 
nocerous with straws," and have my doubts about the 
propriety of casting ''pearls before swine;" but sup- 
pose I must do her bidding, or be reformed out of office, 
and lose all the reward of my uncommon filial piety ; so, 
do you know, sir, that of two inspired apostles, one gives 
the definition of that word synthetically and senten- 
tiously as love, and the other goes into the analysis 
more elaborately ? Of course you don't, and it's a won- 
der to me that some enterprising colporteur, or getter- 
up of pious young story-books for grown-up old children, 
don't tliink of interspersing a few texts of Scripture in 
the Price Current, for the benefit of those who never 
read any thing else ; but neither of them ever dreams 
of confounding it with throwing ("by order of the 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


29 


board a dog’s bone with a dog’s treatment, at some 
audacious wretch who brings his misery between the 
wind and your nobility,” and then chanting loud paeans 
to your own munificence, and caustic invectives on his 
ingratitude. 

Ingratitude, indeed ! And what for should he be 
grateful ? That you have pelted off a nuisance with 
dirty coppers and more bitter words, more to relieve 
your own eyes than his necessities ? Don’t he know, as 
well as you, how easily you can poke your hands into 
your own pockets, say, so many appeals to charity” 
and “pass over on the other side,” when they are 
only reported to you ? To be sure he does ) and don t 
he know, too, that this very “ so many,” is generally 
proof positive that you never respond to any ? None 
better ; and here you swell up, as if the world never 
saw the like of such magnanimity, because you take in 
an orphan child, as well if not better born than your 
own, and their equal, or superior, it may be, in every 
thing but present position ; or (when you can’t help it) 
patronize in some sort an unfortunate acquaintance, 
that you were once proud, perhaps, in your very heart’s 
core, to call your friend” make her the bond slave of 
all your wills, exact ever after the labor of a Hercules, 
the patience of Job, the meekness of Moses, the devotion 
of a martyr, the love of a seraph, and the servility of 
a toady ; and then feel amazed beyond measure if she 
isn’t willing, ever after, to go to perdition, if necessary, 
to save you and yours from “ dying of a rose in aromatic 
pain.” Monstrous, isn’t it, this “ black ingratitude of 


30 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


human nature ” (certes if it exists), and altogether inex- 
plicable ? 

Not quite ! Did you never reflect, that man is 
of three natures^ reguiring all for charity f that no one 
feels specially thankful for what he has paid for, over 
and over, and that this very proscribed ingrate feels in 
his secret soul that you have taken your pay drop by 
drop out of his heart's blood to the very last farthing, 
and ten times over, in the ^pleasure of trampling down, 
in your coldness, your passion or your pride, all the in- 
dependence of his nature — scoffing, sneering, deriding 
and ignoring all the finer feelings of his being ? And 
he has paid you, for a man's self-respect is worth more 
to him than money, and evil is the charity that hum- 
bleth and maketh man less happy ! " 

Once I saw a lady engage some domestic finery,” 
and wear it too, despite her own excellent taste, lest the 
ingenious manufacturer should consider the purchase a 
mere pretext for bestowing a few dollars which she 
herself but ill could spare j and that xoas charity, but 
yours — go to, you don't even understand its first princi- 
ples, never take the word in your mouth again till you 
know what it means ! You have not given to diligence 
as to an equal,'' and the extorted pittance is deadly 
aconite to the soul ! 

Crabtree Ap Crab', 1^^ Lictor 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


31 


‘‘WHY DON’T THE STATE OF MAKYLAND PUT 
HIM {Rev. Mr. S.) IN PETTICOATS?” 

Sure enough, why don^t it ? I am afraid flannels 
and domestics must he scarce, and my own stock is 
getting rather low ; but inasmuch as he “ that hath two 
coats "" is enjoined to give to him that hath none,'' I'll 
try and squeeze out one rather than he and his brethren, 
lay and clerical, who figure on the opposite side, shouldn't 
he properly attired. 

But why in the name of common sense — if she isn't 
defunct — can’t they see, that when the third gender 
goes about to raise a fuss, ‘^kick up a row," and “ele- 
vate the ancient Henry " generally, there's no way like 
“ letting it alone very severely," if they want it to go 
home and mind its own business, if it's got any, and 
leave them to do the talking ; which it never will so 
long as they keep it before the public in so many point- 
less jests and pithless invectives, evincing nothing half 
so clearly as a hearty good will to be witty and sarcastic 
if they only could. 

Well, there's a vast deal of weakness and wicked- 
ness stirring, no doubt ; but it strikes me a Highland 
seer would have thought of turning his own coat before 
making so many mislicks ; yet here they all are, and 
never a man of them dreaming that he's only playing 
showman and “ second fiddle " to this fillibustering lusus, 
and keeping it in countenance, by showing the world 
that there can be something a little more ridiculous ! 

Here, you “ young Hdrry," lay that flattering unc- 


32 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


tion on the pulpit and press, or never say cojpy ” to 
me again. 

Betsey Trotwood, Censor. 


ALABAMA.* 

RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED TO THE CITIZENS OF MOBILE AND MONTGOMERY. 

Bright land of '' sweet waters, how falls on the soul, 
All frozen and chilled in the Crescent^s cold glare, 

The balm of thy love ; and till lifers latest goal 
Be thy sons ever brave, thy daughters most fair. 

Oh, Love is the light on the seraph’s bright wing. 

So dear to the eye that is glazing in death ; 

In music Love steeps every cherub-harp’s string. 

And Love, holy love, is God’s essence, he saith ! 

On the heart Genius flings his glory and pall. 

Love bathes all its folds, and what splendor so rare ? 

So, land of sweet waters,” the minstrel her all. 

Breathes o’er thee this moment, in blessing and prayer. 


* Sweet waters, until some “ pestilent researches into antiquity* 
translated it “ here we rest.” 




OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


33 


WOMAN’S SPHERE. 

Respectfully dedicated to those astute samns who ne'cer discover 
“ that in order to lire well, people must livef nor that some 
women might possibly chance to miss the whole^ sole and uni» 
nersal missioi^, if they should happen to starve to death before- 
hand^ or after they get out of practice. t 

“To tell the hundreds and thousands of women straggling, in some form, for su7>- 
sutence, that their mssiON is, ‘to make good wives and mothers,’ is simply to insult 
tliem most stupidly 1 ” — Greeley. 

“ A certain age, which is the most uncertain thing of all.” — B yeon. 

NTo, that it isn't ! Stick to poetry, my lord ; you've 
a rather respectable knack of rhyming," hut don't 
shine here, that's certain. There's woman's sphere, now, 
as much taller in the way of dubiousness, as metaphys- 
ics is head and shoulders over mathematics. Why, I 
tell you, man, it could give odds, carry weight and beat 
all hollow, at the very first clip, any other will-o’-wisp 
ever seen this side Adam's fall ! Hundreds upon hun- 
dreds have been doing their best to come up with it ever 
since the hue and cry was first started ; but it's no more 
use than diving for the philosopher's stone in a boiling 
caldron of patriotism. They might just as well have 
been hunting for — pshaw, a needle in a haystack" is 

no sort of comparison — for — for — a fanatic’s reason, a 
patron's memory, a client's gratitude, an office-seeker's 
modesty, or any other inconceivable phe-no-me-na ! " 
Here Crab', speechmaking's your forte ; I'm out of 
breath, speak my speech ! 

Certainly, ma'am ! You mean to say that they, 
that is, those Tm talking about, didn't, to be sure, looic 
for it on stumps, or in the pulpit, the bar, conventiors. 


34 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


and such like museums and menageries, not even Uncle 
Sam's over in Washington there ; because, being in the 
main honest, sensible, ^ law-abiding ' citizens, they knew, 
of course, it wasn't to be found in any such unlikely, 
outlandish, rowdy-like, ridiculous places, though it can't 
be denied that some of them, editors, teachers and doc- 
tors for instance, did pry into others nearly as conspic- 
uous, improper and disreputable ; but, as was said be- 
fore, not the first one of them ever got possession." 

The Mrs. Delicacys — sweet, gentle, retiring, lady- 
like, or poor sickly creatures— led off. And if any body 
could have found it, you'd have thought they might, for 
they couldn't, or wouldn't, or didn't look for it in any 
thing so masculine as ^business,' whether able to fee 
one set of agents for doing it, and another for overseeing 
them or not ; and any gentlemen of their acquaintance 
would, you know, ' attend to it with a great deal of 
pleasure, if they only had time and didn't happen to 
forget it ; but what with smoking cigars, ^cussing' and 
discussing politics, icing brandy-smashers, and trying to 
raise poles to the height of human folly, they were one 
and all ^ so desperately hurried and worried,' that really 
'they did wish women would quit making such rag- 
babies of themselves, take their own proper sphere and 
fill it, and not torment them to death with their ever- 
lasting importunity ! ' " 

" How absurd, just as if it made the slightest differ- 
ence whether their affairs were attended to now oi 
some time after the day of judgment ; but then, poor 
creatures, I suppose they can't help thinking it does, 
sometimes, so it's rather a pity, but what they might.” ’ 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


35 


Don't 1)6 so sarcastic, Mr. Dick, one old quiz like 
Crab' here is enough for any family ! " 

One too many, perhaps." 

Quite likely, but go on, Ap ! " 

Well, they missed it, you see, and their cousins, the 
Mrs. Easys, who slipped quietly down from parlor to 
kitchen, from house to pig-stye, and as fast as real es- 
tate disappeared put the more personal property in its 
place, didn't do a bit better ; for as soon as it was discover- 
ed that every individual piece had the kind of flaw called 
“a mouth," some men thought, and thought pretty loud 
too, that a woman's legitimate sphere didn't consist in 
lumbering up the world with rubbish that couldn't even 
be turned over to the sherifiT, or thrown in with other 
live stock to eke out ‘ a capital speculation.' " 

Mrs. Hold-her-own, Lookout, and Mind-her-own-busi- 
ness, agreed with them — wouldn't even look for it in the 
nest of that old goose, whose custom it was to lay golden 
eggs, be picked, plucked, starved, and otherwise “ done 
to death," to enable her lord and master to cut a dash 
and astonish all out-doors — had no faith in their mis- 
sion” to enrich the family circle with half a dozen 
loafers, and as many more walking brandy bottles or 
milliners' shops, apiece — didn't worship St. Griselda, ad- 
mire water lots," paper cities, and other ingenious in- 
ventions, for enabling keen-sighted flscal operators to see 
quite through their own property and their wives' too ; 
nor believe, most religiously, in loving their neighbors a 
great deal better than themselves ! Of course nobody 
expected them to find it ; and every righteous usurer, 
gambler, or rumseller, unjustly defrauded of his three or 


36 


■FAMILY PAPERS AND 


four hundred per cent. ; every disinterested “ friend of 
the family/^ choused out of some smashing business '' 
by stupid prejudice against new scrip and absurd love 
of old parchment ; every charitable, public-spirited law- 
yer, trustee and guardian, unfortunately interdicted 
from building hospitals, churches and colleges, at the 
expense of his client or ward ; every ill-used tenant, 
forced by legal hocus-pocus to balk some “ capital fel- 
low^'’ of a landlord of champagne frolics, oyster suppers, 
dice and other condiments of the back saloon, when he 
could just as well furnish him a trifling advance at a 
slight discount of fifty or sixty per cent, as not, was, 
you may be sure, utterly and instinctively shocked and 
disgusted with such insolence, meanness, unnatural sus- 
picion, revolting selfishness, and most shameless and un- 
feminine intervention ! 

The world had got to a pretty pass, — it had indeed, 
if all good-fellowship, inventive genius, the interests of 
commerce, scientific demonstration, individual and joint- 
stock enterprise were to be held in check by silly woman's 
caprice ! What should she know of banking and tra- 
ding and splendid operations, altogether above her ken ? 
What right had she to go mixing herself up with 
men’s business,” find out that her confidential friend had 
got her last dollar invested in his own name, and make 
him refund before they, his sworn chums, choice spirits, 
and honorable creditors, could get hold of it ? It was 
infamous, indeed it was ! If woman hadn't sense 
enough to consult her true interest, confine herself to her 
own sphere, and see only through man's optics, it was 
lime somebody taught her that it was ! They, for their 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


37 


part, didn^t see what law was made for, if it couldn't 
protect men's rights a little better ; and long and loud 
they bewailed their own hard fate, and sobbed, '^our 
sufferings is intolerable ! " But when one Biddy O'Niver- 
fail slipped into a vulgar pounced on her own 

silver spoons and made off with the dollars “ scraped to- 
gither jist to pay the rint, buy the wee bit o' coal, and 
the darlint s shoes," then didn’t they use stvong Ian"- 
guagej Oh, but did'nt they ? 

It took three full hours before they could find a sheet 
of paper strong enough to hold it, and four good men 
and true," sworn to make her a public example and de- 
fend all henpecked husbandry from such high-handed 
outrage in future, to carry it and her effigy up to the 
pillory ; but as ill-luck would have it, the old un " 
(who is always on hand to help his own, I think) had 
one of his regular limbs " articled there, and what did 
the sneering little imp — knowing he couldn't look inno- 
cent if he tried — do, the moment he set his eyes on 
left my led,” but stick his arms akimbo and ask if 
^‘my uncle" took in lodgers, and when he came to 
and hoard,” screw himself up into a most diabolical 
twist, and hint that she “ might have been scrouged out 
from under the doggery table ? " Consequently the 
Old boss " (I don't mean the very oldest one), after 
administering, as was proper, a sharp box on the place 
where young Impudence's jaw had been, and ascertain- 
ing that the other culprit wouldn't be like to go security 
for his (the printer's) fee, concluded that suc^ ^dow 
personalities” were beneath the notice of first class 
papers ike his ; though he kindly volunteered to make 
9 


38 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


the affair a sort of standing, unwritten text for all tlie 
grave homilies, reprimands, affectionate appeals, fatherly 
admonitions and grand palavers ” which he and other 
argiis-eyed might from time to time see fit to bestow on 
the sex at large, irrespective of rank or class. So in the 
long run Biddy got off just as scot-free as any of the 
balance, and rather amused, if the truth must be told, 
at the witty little squibs, jests and jibes eliminated. “A 
very good wit'^ they all had ; it hurt nobody, but good 
does sometimes comt out of evil ; thousands who never 
would have found time to make any exploring expedi- 
tions themselves, have in consequence been vastly en- 
lightened as to the precise whereabouts and cosmogony 
of woman’s sphere. 

The very sight of a chart or guide-book throws all 
the Mrs. Mops and Miss Brooms into perfect ecstasies. 

The quiet and the shade is looman’s sphere, (oh, isn’t 
that so nice and refreshing this warm weather ?) 
the care of her infant offspring, her first and holiest 
duty ! (That’s rather bad, as I haven’t any young 
ideas” to shoot, and yours are all grown up and out of 
the way ; but never mind, I dare say they’ll have a gen- 
eral distribution of babies after a while.) She must re~ 
tire from public life (to be sure we will, and glad of 
the chance), its fiercQ struggles, angry strife, and sordid 
cares ; its noise and glare are not for her ; (now doesn’t 
that sound so sensible and refined .?) it must ever grieve 
her BEST FRIENDS to See her mingling in the loud-- 
mouthed, hardhanded strife of that unholy arena ! ” 

Dear, dear, how it must worry your poor father and 
husband, Carrie, for us to sit up all night writing their 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


39 


sermons and editorials, when theyVe overdone them- 
selves a little, eating and drinking for the good of hu- 
manity ! 

Well, I must say 1 am sick and tired playing du- 
enna to silks and domestics that will form improper, de- 
grading alliances with the vulgar scum in spite of me, 
making a ^ a perfect figure ^ of myself, hunting patterns 
all over town, but never knew before but what brother 
Charlie and my Edward took it all very patiently, if the 
collars only happened to fit. 

And only to think what my dear departed John 
must have suffered, seeing me go to market every morn- 
ing, and how like a saint he always bore it too ! If it 
hadn't have been for asking him for money now and 
then, I don't suppose I ever should have found it out. 
Maggie dear, if ever you get married, always remember, 
child, to have the wicker basket brought up with the 
patent leathers ! " 

Why mother, how you talk ! I don't expect even 
Boots would have me now, a great shameless, brazen- 
faced Amazon in public life, that's disgraced herself, 
performing at that vulgar theatre in A B 0 Hall ! If 

I had only gone to the Opera now but I'm sure, I 

never meant to scandalize all my best friends." 

And sister Harriet and I never dreamed how it 
hurt all their feelings, for us to look after the crop and 
mind the shop ; while Mr. Hragonstooth was dispensing 
mountain dew to his thirsty followers, demonstrating 
the origin of trade-winds in Bunkum, and the feasibility 
of superseding steam and Gulf Stream by that great 
motive power, and Mr. Drygoods, gone up with Mr. 


40 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


Tripod and Kev. Dr. Decorum to the Observatory, to 
help Professor Tirewoman and President Count-the- 
skirts, take the altitude, latitude, and longitude, of Miss 
Virgo's drapery.” 

. ‘‘No indade, madam, but of coorse it did ; for they 
takes it so hard to see even the likes of me, trudging 
through rain and shine, to gather up the bit sewing, 
or carry home the week's washing, that they always 
blocks up the way, and crowds us off into the gutter if 
they possibly can ! ''• 

“ Yes, but that's all over, Kate, — there's to be no 
more toil, and mud, and dust for us now ; no parents 
are ever more to bring daughters into the world and 
leave them to shift for themselves ; no father dare to die 
without first providing them at least one husband and 
two children apiece ; no helpless young mother to be 
left with herself and family to provide for ; no selfish, 
monopolizing spouse, dream of making his exit before 
looking up a successor ; no stupid, obstinate, domineer- 
ing, or worthless, unprincipled incumbrance, to force the 
weaker vessel to breast life's surges alone, or with some 
ignorant, reckless, gambling, drunken pilot at the helm ; 
no faithless young lover to take himself off and leave 
his intended to wear the willow ; no true-hearted one 
to wing his flight to a brighter sphere and bequeathe her 
Ihe cypress ! There's to be no more picking and choos- 
ing, taking one perhaps three or four times, and leaving 
another without any owner ; an old maid or bachelor, is 
henceforth to be a thing Barnum couldn’t find. Strict 
embargoes are everywhere to be enforced, and no wicked 
traitor to manifest destiny, presume to abduct himself 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS, 


41 


from his present abiding place so long as a single unap- 
propriated, marriageable female remains. Uncle Sam 
is to make it bis special duty to keep up a cbrps de 
reserve^ to supply all accidental losses and deficiencies, 
preserve the balance of numbers between his nephews 
and nieces, and see that no careless, inefficient, or im- 
provident wife lacks her full quota of ' little angels ; ^ 
no disconsolate w'idow, pining, unaffianced, or contuma- 
cious, man-contemning ' old forlornity ' stands ' all the 
day idle,' or shirks out under any pretext whatever 
from woman's uniform, unexceptional Mission. In 
short, there's nothing more for us to do, but expand our 
own graces in the serene atmosphere of domestic life, 
smile on our husbands, and nurse infant seraphs with 
folded wings, until they get high enough to draw maps 
of Woman's Sphere, on pulpit cushions and three-legged 
stools, and sketch designs for that monument we are 
going to build to the inventors of the same." 

Well, and thin, bless their dear souls, it won't be 
Kathleen O'Do-or-die that'll be withholding this con- 
thribution to that same ; " but just at this identical 
moment, there came a sound “ so full of woef that 
every one knew instinctively it must be the summons 
from some ill-boding old raven, or ominous Scrich-owl " 
(pretty birds of wisdom they are), which having elected 
itself Purveyor-G-eneral to the wants, moral, social, con- 
jugal, and intellectual, of Messieurs Backwoods and 
Kising-generation long before young Backwoods and 
Rising-generation knew any thing where they were or 
what they wanted, now called for a draft of “ Twenty 
Thousand " educationists, immediately ; and intimated 


42 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


pretty clearly that fifty must be had/' and the con- 
script renewed every three years." 

Mothers wept, daughters fainted, and even ancient 
spinsters folded their hands in blank despair ! A few 
gallant spirits, however, with that calm steady light in 
the eye, that you would follow any where, to the van of 
a forlorn hope, flung themselves into the breach, declar- 
ing they would die at their posts sooner than be dragged 
one inch from woman's sphere. A few more loyal 
subjects rallied at length, and memorialized the conser- 
vators ; setting forth the extreme hardships of the 
case, the imperious tone, and despotic nature of the 
Ukase, and imploring them to raise the siege and put 
their disciples in immediate and inalienable enjoyment 
of their own loved ideal ! " A majority seemed to think 
some sort of transmigration or pilgrimage still inter- 
vened ; but Mrs. Masterly-Inactivity sat quietly down, 
vowing “ that if they chose to bring it round, it was all 
very well, but for her part, she shouldn't budge a soli- 
tary foot," and Mrs. Speak-her-mind, gave it as her 
opinion, that it wasn't to be found this side Mahomet's 
Paradise, unless it lay in doing what each and every 
individual man in the universal world wanted done, and 
didn't want, to do. 

There was nothing left for it then, but to send a full 
delegation of the most illustrious Discoverers, Topog- 
raphers, Censors, Legislators, and accomplished Man- 
Milliners, to wait on the Houris, and demand immediate 
possession ; and in case they declined yielding the in- 
cumbency of woman's sphere, to do the next best 
thing — secure such a full and particular description, 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


43 


portrait and pattern of the same, as should be perfectly 
adaptable to all persons, places, times, and emergencies : 

not omitting, in mean time, to deploy a sufficient 
force from their own supernumeraries, to cover all vul- 
nerable points, from the daring and insidious attacks of 
those seditious amphibiae ('' neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor 
good red herring bent on slipping tliemselves into 
half-and-halfs, for the better convenience of scaling walls, 
if foiled in their nefarious attempts to level boundaries. 

But why didn't the strongminded in hats and 
tights despatch them at once — hadn't they ^ paper 
bullets ' enough ? " 

^ “Humph! why yes— no.— The fact is, the mis- 
chievous monkeys were so unprecedentedly thick-skulled, 
they wouldn't know wffien they were killed ! What 
would you advise, Mr. Dick, in such premises ? " 

“ Have they committed any overt acts of hostility 
recently ? " 

“ Oh yes, any amount of ' high falutin,' fillibuster 
and ‘ phi/ty-/our-phorty{sm/ and one of the Argus-eyes 
says : ^ Strongminded woman is putting herself through 
a course of political ethics ' (must have good eyes to 
find them), ^ medical lectures, and newspaper essays ! ' " 

“ Oh, she is, is she ? Well then, let them mind 
their own business, talk less nonsense, set better xam- 
ples, pass better law^s, make better prescriptions, write 
better articles, and devise better customs, and she'll Kave 
less occasion. That's my opinion ! " 

Don't know which looks the most ridiculous, a 
superannuated Shanghae, stalking round, exhorting ah 
hens and ducks to quit eggs and aquatics, or a profound 
old goose in Toga, informing the entire feathered race 


44 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


that they are every one bound to swim, and raise 
chickens. ShouldnH wonder if the ducks were to take 
to water, and the owls to hooting, after all their fuss. 

Bless you, Mr. Dick, your common sense is ad- 
mirable ! Expect the sure enough Missionaries will 
find out theyVe wives and mothers, without quite so 
much palaver. If they never do, and ^ canH even get 
themselves off their hands, no Jiow^’ as Crab says, 
rather conclude that wasn't their mission." Suppose 
the Missionators don't exactly mean them to pounce 
upon husbands, ‘ after the manner of the tribe of Ben- 
jamin,* or help themselves to children ‘ any how ? 

Of course not ; but hope, ma'am, you don't expect the 
free and enlightened to consider them female critters 
Women ? Might as well insist they're Ladies^ when 
they haven't got three or four thousand a-year to be 
swindled out of, or somebody to make or swindle it for 
them 1 

Hush up. Crab ! Where's Humboldt ? Tend to 
Mr. Dick, — no wonder he's fainted ! 

Betsey Trot wood. Censor, 

Per Crabtree ap Crab, 1st Lictor. 

NOTE PER SEC. 

‘‘ Phe-no-me-na " (phenomena, see page 33), a 
noun singular, since applied by a full-grown, to an in- 
cipient M. D., who had “ hunted all through the 
Medical Dictionary, and all through the Classical 
Dictionary, and couldn't find it." 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


45 


CHARLESTON. 

I may not look upon thy quaint and gallant face, 
But rightly art thou named, fair city of the Sun ; 
First Charles in virtue. Second in thy grace. 

Right regal is thy tone, and princely is thy ton. 

Lawrence Melville, Ad. Inter, 


CLEVER AUTHORESS. 

Clever the mischief ! What do you mean, you 
double-faced satyr, by this blowing hot and cold in the 
very same breath ? And what has my niece. Lady 
Lackland done, I should like to know, that she should 
be stigmatised authoress ? ” 

She doesn't go unwashed and unkempt, her belong- 
ings are no dirtier than other folks, nobody ever saw 
five greasy nightcaps deck her head," what business 
nave you, then, to ‘‘ soft-soap " her this way ? She 
don't patter about slipshod, clatter about in hat and 
boots, nor lounge about in fantastic, tatterdemalion, 
woe-be-gone .old wrapper from morning till night — never 
takes a pen for a soup-ladle, makes chocolate in a coal- 
scuttle, salts tea out of an inkstand, cuts muttonchops 
with a pearl folder, flutes ruffles on a gridiron, or mis- 


46 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


takes, by any possible chance, your best sock (instead of 
vest) for a pudding-bag — can tell apple dumplings from 
Bourkrout, dutch cheese from cabbage heads, raw, and 
other greens in unsophisticated state — never needs 
Spanish flies for inky fingers, or has to hunt all day and 
borrow a broom to-morrow, to sweep the cobwebs from 
the sky,'' — knows a thimble by sight, darning-needle 
by personal acquaintance — has more “ premeditated 
poverty" than accidents of the day" about the heels 
of her stockings — keeps her ^^ittle Jellybys" no worse 
off than their neighbors, her marital's buttons and 
strings in good condition as most conjugals — his satrap- 
ship never grumbles (more than becomes a philosopher) 
about the dust on his coat, and the mud in his coffee, 
nor vows — oftener than is needful for the preserv^ation 
of discipline,"— that his shirt collars never do fit," 
and that's more than your wife can say of you and yours ; 
and now, what right have you, you corduroy simpleton^- 
ess, to infamize her, one of President Pierce's subjects 
and my officials, with such an epithet as authoress ? " 
It's libellous I know, it's actionable I believe, and 
if ever I find a gentleman as is a gentleman," that 
ever slept with a law book under his head, and isn't 
besotted past compos, lest some high-stepping she-male 
should toddle into those plaid absurdities of that in- 
tensely Statesprison-looking toggery of his. I'll have you 
prosecuted for defamation. 

Authoress,” you ninnified quintessimal of all 
ancient sillyism, it's a reflection on your respectable 
parentess, and it's a wonder she ’don't see you are out, 
and be after you with a gong-ette ! Ah, here she comes 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


47 


— “Oh Jamie, Jamie, bairn, weel a day that e'er ye 
should think to gang out by yer lone self, when ye ken 
weel enough, ye born natural, that it’s oure and often 
I’ve tellt ye, ye had na the gumption to last over night 1 
Come haim, Jamie." 

Yes, you'd better, or you’ll be apt to get Lictor- 
ized. 

Betsey Trotwood, Censor, 


NUMBER ONE AND NUMBER TWO. 

FIRST-CLASS HOTELS. 

Number One, neat, comfortable conveyance from 
steamboat and depot, free gratis. Number Two, fare ex- 
tra (and discretionary with your surly captor), in a forlorn 
dirty old omnibus, that tells you the moment you are 
seated, and have time to look round, how completely 
you were “sold" by that dealer in irony, who asserted 
Number Two, to be “one of the first hotels in the 
country." 

Number One, handsome reception-room, where you 
can sit or recline at your ease, till the presiding genius 
comprehends intuitively where you and your belongings 
can he bestowed most entirely to your own satisfaction. 
Number Two, sit in the public gangway, or stand and 
hold up the banisters till somebody comes and shuffles 
you off into the first vacant space. Number One, 
ROOMS airy, good-sized, faultlessly clean, and not en- 
tirely cut off from all communication with the out-door 


48 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


world ; Number Two, not very diminutive, but rather 
calculated to show off your accomplishments in the art 
of packing baggage in the smallest possible compass, 
and commanding a charming surveillance of the sayings 
and doings, gymnastics and callo-thumpion rehearsals 
of the whole kitchen menage. 

Number One, chairs, half dozen, rosewood and ma- 
hogany, spring-seat and cane-bottom ; Number Two, 
one Windsor, two cane-bottom, all very common. Num- 
ber One, CARPET good, good of its kind, and in good 
preservation — not the slightest occasion for a score of 
Secession and Woman's Eight newspapers to interdict 
an unholy alliance offensive and retentive between it 
and the soles of your shoes. Number Two, medium 
Scotch, judging from remoter parts, the more contiguous 
being so j)atriotically attached to the soil of their coun- 
try, that, like other patriots, their precise stripe and 
color is a little dubious. 

Mem, Fine thing, my Aunt Betsey's lost her specs, 
and off to the rescue of Mr. Dick, who was entrapped, 
poor man, while lying in a collapse after his great effort 
in the long closing speech on the Woman's Eight ques- 
tion, and forcibly inducted, she thinks, into the chair of 
Befoggery in the Transmundane, Cosmopolite, Hybrid- 
ity Institute, by some sur loi, sub terre^ kidnapping, 
manifestation kelpies ; though, my own opinion is, that 
he's been regularly burked, for not finding the new- 
light rapped out of empty heads, tilting chairs, aiid 
tipping tables ; — but don't we know somebody else, 
this side California, that would be apt to say, wash " 
it, or send it on a short pleasure-trip at the stern of a 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


49 


steamer, and see it come back, much reduced in specific 
gravity, but more improved in elasticity and general sa- 
lubrity ? AVell, I reckon ! 

Number One, fikeplace marble, closed (supposing 
it to be summer), with highly polished fancy network, 
cast-iron grating, showing a background of spotless 
white ; Number Two, hearth-brick painted red, fire- 
place plastered and whitewashed very fairly, and fur- 
nished with two green-footed andirons, supposed to be 
brass, and a pair, done up one in white, the other in 
newspaper. Mem. Convenient place to sweep other 
papers, and all sorts of trash — saves labor ! 

Number One, Mosquito-bars, best lace, exquisitely 
white, tent style, suspended per centre, its graceful 
folds spread out at night without any hint of yours, and 
thrown back by day overhead of low French lounge bed- 
stead, where you can get on and off just as easy as not. 
Number Two, scrapped and patched, cross-barred, and 
lace, very yellow fixtures (unless you understand the 
hang of the things, and can get them down yourself), 
over apparently new, but very suspiciously worm-eaten 
‘‘testers'" and regular turned post, high old-fashioned 
bedstead. If young, hale and active, you can take a 
flying leap, and light somewhere near the middle ; if 
not, just shove a trunk or two alongside, and you'll 
climb up after a while, may be. 

Number One, counterpane, finest Marseilles, changed 
once a week, if you stay so long ; sheets and pillow- 
slips twice ditto, and oftener, if a drop of tea, or speck 
of any kind, hai^pens to bedim their spotless sheen. 
Mattress, new and fresh, double-spring, and very best 
3 


50 


FAMILY PAPEKS AND 


quality, that nothing but a guilty conscience could pos* 
sibly make lie hard, if you should try by any fair means 
twenty-three hours out of twenty-four ; and all made to 
fit the bedstead and each other so exactly, you can't get 
them out of sorts and “ all up in a mess/' do what you 
Avill. 0h, you may haul and pull, and twist and screw 
and turn and tumble, it's no use, there they are. Num- 
ber Two, old dimity “cover" basted, darned, dirty and 
dingy ; sheets, &c., common cotton, the same dark- 
colored white, only a little more so ; " setting you 
right off, if the least hit metaphysical, speculating on 
the probable prices of soap and water, and how many 
one dozen ironings are equivalent to any one washing, in 
that “ first-class " establishment. Bed, about as elastic 
as the “ soft side of a plank ; " but if wise, and not feel- 
ing about as amiable as a porcupine at bay, you won't 
carry your investigations into other people's domestic 
concerns much further ; indeed, there's no occasion to 
look. Pillows, twenty by nine inches, or thereabouts, 
but not very peripatetic, considering how much they 
have already outgrown their cases, their excursions 
(and those of their adjuncts) being generally bounded 
by big trunk on one side, and bureau on the other ; 
unless mosquitoes are “ very had” in which case Betty 
or Bridget will probably find them somewhere about the 
room, or just out of the window. 

Number One, centke-table mahogany, with hand- 
some cover and Bible ) wardrobe, side-table, bureau and 
washstand rosewood (like bedstead) ; the latter with 
marble-tops (Italian), to match hearth and mantel-piece. 
Furniture of washstand, &c., &c., all complete, double 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


51 


sets ; wares, china, fine and white, full C(jmplement, 
made to order, and nothing wanting. Number Two, 
wardrobe and cent re-t able among the missing ; bedstead 
sycamore ; bureau mahogany face, and respectable glass, 
otherwise very ordinary, and much neglected. Wash- 
stand and’ side-table common deal, painted divers colors, 
to correspond with every thing, where nothing looks like 
any thing else, nor any two like each other. Furniture 
of washstand, one hard, dark towel per diem, with 
nearly half a set of common white and motley delf, 
minus a top here, bottom there, and handle somewhere 
else, — looking, for all the world, like trophies won in the 
grand scramble, after a general smash-up in some old 
crockery concern. Side-table, rather hors du combat, 
and shoved back out of the way into a dark corner ; but 
if you want to eat, or write, just help that choice collec- 
tion to emigrate ; put one foot into the soap-stand 
(there's no cover, nor soap bigger than a wafer, to hurt 
or hinder), the other into the washbowl, and make 
yourself comfortable. They are quite clean now, you 
know, though Fm afraid you don't read your Bible as 
much as you should, or you'd remember, that “evil 
communications corrupt good manners," and not suffer 
that little finger-brush of yours to scrape acquaintance 
with all the coarse wedgewood and dirty stone-china in 
the country. Don't tell me there isn t any haven t you 
got one of your own, I should like to know ? And, be- 
sides, what right have you to go about compromising 
the dignity of the toga, by enacting the “ old woman," 
who got so much dirt by sweeping up once a year, that 


52 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


she wondered “ what upon airth people did do with it 
all when they cleaned up every day ? ” 

N. B. If the establishments were large, and yielded, 
in proportion as much dust, dirt, lint and feathers, as 
Tve seen on and under some tables, beds and bureaus 
lately (I don't mean yours now. Number Two), I sus- 
pect they must have to employ a special train for its 
transportation ; but that's a mere speculation. 

Number One, wheel round, turn a crank on the 
wall, and it's just as certain as manifest destiny," that 
somebody 'll come up before you've half a chance to for- 
get what you wanted, looking so neat and cheerful, po- 
lite, and perfectly respectful, that you can't possibly 
speak cross, or feel ill-natured, if you want to ever so 
much. Number Two, pretty fair cord and tassel, where 
you are welcome to exercise your patience and muscles 
all day, if you like— though I don't know so well about 
that, either, for when Paddy and Sukey can't stand 
‘‘that confounded bell" any longer, it's a chance if some 
greasy, slatternly, blubber-lipped darky, or raw Celt- 
innocent of Anglo-Saxon as a Shanghai of high Latins 
doesn't come up looking shillalahs and vinegar-cruets at 
you, as much as to say, I'll tache ye better manners, 
sir, nor to be ringing me up any more, disthurbing the 
swatest nap, or the natest reel in the world;" and I 
reckon you won't, if you can help it. But a word to 
you. Number One. People like to look at pretty pic- 
tures, you know, and how do you know but they some- 
times ring oftener than they would, if you didn't keep 
some uncommonly good-looking ones about ? Verhum 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


53 


sap — Number Two, you see, understands this matter 
rather better. 

Number One, Fare, every luxury that sea and land, 
capital and skill, can command ; got up in every con- 
ceivable stjde but a bad or indifferent one, as if to prove 
that it’s not high living, but gormandizing, — not rich 
cooking, but bad cooking, that makes people sick. For 
desserts^ the whole science of pastry and confectionery 
illustrated. Prelude, fresh bills of fore three times a 
day ; accompaniment, music to aid digestion. Number 
Two, half' boiled edibles for the vegetarian, raw enough 
to cook, and come again ; huge masses of fish, flesh and 
fowl for the carnivorous, with lobsters, shrimps (and, for 
aught I know, toads, frogs, snails, centipedes, and other 
fresh-ioater reptiles) yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow, 
by way of variety. Dessert, sugar and lard — lard, su- 
gar, and rice, slightly disguised with flour, and other va- 
riations. Music (about six hours every day), knife-and- 
fork prelude, plate-rattle chorus and gong interlude ; 
and tin-pans and callothumpions hide your diminished 
heads,’- you can’t shine again after that gong ! Bill of 
Fare (once a day if you insist), a regular veteran in 
small type epaulettes, and most magnificent pen-flour- 
ishing “continuations,” that mean exactly what they 
don’t say ; so if you fancy Irish potatoes, invaluable in a 
state of siege, where lead and bullets are exhausted, just 
mark green peas,” ov ^^corn ;” — underscore ’‘^broiled 
chicken,” and you’ll probably get a huge chunk of black- 
looking meat, swimming in a whole plate — no, saucer, 
full of beef, or mutton tallow, but not so much as a little 
finger-napkin to bless yourself withal. 


54 


FAMILY PAFERS AND 


Comparisons may be odorous/^ as Mrs. Malaprop 
says, and somewhat lengthy too, but it takes a first-rate 
artist to bring a full length ” before every mind’s 
eye with one or two pen-and-ink dashes ; so you see. 
Number Two, that if I hadn’t gone into specialty- 
pleas ” like, you’d have lost all the beauty of contrast, 
and never known for certain whether it was yourself, or 
somebody else, that had the honor of sitting. And now, 
to show that I’m not playing censor, and putting on 
airs, like other subs, because my superior’s out of the 
way ; and have, after all, just as much sneaking kind- 
ness ” for you left, as could reasonably be expected from 
one of that flayed-alive, and barbecued set of mortals, 
called travellers, — I’m going, with a laudable zeal for 
your improvement, to put you in a way of seeing what’s 
what, with your own eyes. 

Just make up a wallet — I paid you enough for no 
value received, the fractions being about right, the units 
all extra, to help along considerable — then take up a 
line of march “ straight for California ; ” but don’t go 
as if shot out of a catapult, that isn’t the way to learn 
any thing, and sea water is, I take it, about as salt one 
side of the Isthmus as the other ; and some people along 
the coast fancy that some things can be done as well as 
others.” You’ll find several nice settlements, or places 
where nice settlements ought to be ; one, in particular, 
promises \o be a right smart little village, when Lake 
Erie gets turned upside down into the Gulf of Mexico : 
but if you don’t find Number One there, just go on till 
you do-— when you come to the right place, any body can 
tell you which it is. 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


55 


Should the unaccustomed quiet and apparent leisure 
get rather alarming, and you begin to feel some misgiv- 
ings about remaining any longer in that enchanted 
castle, where every thing must be done by magic, or 
some invisible troops of fairies, it’s all done so quick, 
noiselessly, and well, go right off to head magician, and 
make a clean breast ” of it. Having nothing in the 
world to fear from your rivalry, he won’t mind enlight- 
ening you, till you can forget more in the next half hour 
than you ever knew before in all your life ; or taking 
you round to see what sort of fairies he does operate 
with. When you have digested all that, just possum 
it ” a day or two — no, that won’t be necessary either — 
just think of going back to Number Two, and if that 
doesn’t lay you up for a good week, you are a man of 
some nerve — that’s all ! And, then, won’t that attend- 
ant, who knows exactly what you want quite as well, if 
not a little better, than you do yourself, bring you every 
thing you ask for, and some others, which he thinks you 
ought to want, and would want, if you could only see 
them instead of the bill ? Of course he will ; and that 
elegant tea and dinner-service, with its superior cutlery, 
plate, china, and English glass, doesn’t it look refresh- 
ing ? Certainly ; and those fine waiters, too — too fine 
not to be covered afresh three times a day with the finest 
and glossiest of damask ; and those peerless napkins, 
looking so like incarnate light, or woven snow-wreaths — 
stop ! you don’t presume to think of laying your unholy, 
earth-worm fingers on that visible purity, without first 
breathing a sigh for some similar lustration to reach your 
own sin-soiled, world-worn spirit ! If you do, you are a 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


b6 

sinner “ past praying for,” I fear ; but Number One 
doesn't know that, and won't he call up to see you — see 
if you will have a physician, or any thing else ; send up 
his compliments to know how you are, with books and 
papers to amuse you — the paragraphs all marked that 
he thinks *will specially interest you — and bring up 
agreeable company to entertain you ? 

To be sure he will — no kind of doubt of it ; ask if 
there is any thing else he can do for you — do it, too ; 
collect information, and let you know when it is done, 
without waiting for you to inquire ; give you his advice 
(and it's a better article than you get every day free 
gratis) ; and all this time do you ever catch him look- 
ing icebergs, thunderbolts, and percussion-caps, till you 
expect every moment to hear, ‘‘ Confound your iwpu^ 
donee /" (or some other wicked words,) do you suppose 
I've got nothing else to do, but look after you and your 
affairs ?" No, you don't — you would really suppose he 
thought it was his business how his guests enjoyed 
themselves — his special pleasure to supply your want of 
tact and judgment ; and a pretty heavy surplus capital 
he must have to make up for some people's deficiencies, 
as I happen to know ! 

Well, you feel better, now, don't you ? Yes, I see 
you do ; and when you see how much one kindly heart 
and master-spirit can perform, you feel very much like 
breaking every glass that reflects a flurried, petulant, im 
patient face, giving Paddy a clean shirt, Sukey and 
Sambo at least one pound of soap and a bucket of wa- 
ter apiece, and starting, all those coarse, odd, black- 
looking old saucers, that you use for plates, with that 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


57 


common, dirty-handled, broken-tined cutlery, and the 
rest of that “ tag-rag and bobtail ” dining and bedroom 
furniture (that in the parlor will do a while longer if 
you'll only have the piano tuned), off to some beggars' 
auction — of course you do, and won't forget those young 
half-breed, Japan and sheet-iron waiters either ! Then 
there's that antique gem of the kind, the one you know 
that — ahem, it's an ugly word, and as you are going to 
jeform — you mean to, don't you ? — why, I won't say it ; 
though how you ever did get off scot free with such a 
treasure, I'm sure I can't divine ; but you'll send it 
right back to the plain of Shinar, won't you ? The 
one I mean that was made out of Mrs. JSToah's two old 
worn-out dustpans, spliced together in the middle. And 
not a bad idea that of the maker, nicking off the four 
corners to give it somewhat of an octagonal air, though 
it's a pity his sodder " all give out," so that he had 
to leave them all standing “ every which way for Sun- 
day," it gives it such a reckless, torn-down " appear- 
ance ; or if you don't like to “acknowledge the corn," 
and think Mr. Layard won't care, just hand it over to 
me, and I'll do my best to get it to the World's Fair, 
spite of all the Barnums in existence. But don't let 
P. G. have it, whatever you do, for he'd be certain to 
label it “ Master Tubal-Gain’s first specimen , made out 
of Mrs. Eve’s camp-hettle (though we all know it's a 
much more modern affair), put it in a glass case, and 
give it an alligator, cobra, rattlesnake, and boa con- 
strictor, for a guard of honor to keep it safe out of reach 
of all the antiquaries in the world ; and you know I gc 
against humbugging the public, and don't even ai)prove 


58 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


of your calling yours a first class hotel/' when faith 
of honest man ") I did'nt see any thing “ first class " 
there, unless it was the prices — and they were about 
up to the veiy tallest — and that magnificent old cock- 
roach, and really I shouldn't wonder if he was Grand 
Patriarch of the whole tribe ! 

Steamboats and sea-sarpints” why, what's the 
matter now ? I'm sure I haven't said any thing par- 
ticular — not even told what a city with a beautiful name 
you live in ! Don't flare up so, man alive, you might 
pitch into a collapse or on to a snag ; and, besides, what 
sort of behavior is this, when I'm talking to you in sucli 
a fatherly kind of way ? Don't you know it hurts me 
a great deal ivorse than it does you, and it’s all for your 
own good, and you’ll thank me for it some day,” as Mrs. 
Doctor Birch used to tell her hopeful progeny, when 
taking them through a course of the tallest kind of 
sprouts ', and for which good service not the first one 
of the ungrateful little wretches ever has thanked her 
to this day, that ever I could learn ? 

But don’t you imitate their naughty example, for if 
you don’t go right home and strike your colors down to 
half-mast, or run up your accommodations to high- 
water mark about the quickest, all the world will know 
you have a great deal more impudence and less ignorance 
than I give you credit for ! 

Crabtree Ap Crab', I^^ Licior, 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


59 


PROMISING PATRON. 

Says Msecenas the little, I'm very profound, 

Though to shallow-pate Euclid I do condescend. 

But with foot in the clouds, caput vast on the ground, 
This sublimity mia^ need never unbend ! 

As PATRON I'll call and subscribe though — provided 
Stultissiraa femince will have the said call — 

Not noWy but some day when the thing is decided 
Past doubt — ten dimes isn’t much, but my heart is so 
small ! 

Lady Lackland, 2c? Lictor. 


LAY SERMON TO PRIEST AND PRELATE. 

BY LADY LACKLAND, SECOND LICTOR. 

“ I was sick, and ye visited me.”— M att. xxv. 36. 

Has your Reverence the Doctor or Pastor, your Right 
Reverence the Bishop, done this ; or has he, in the opin- 
ion of the impartial, sullied the purity of his lawn with 
the stain of worldliness, by acting to the grief of those 
whom God hath wounded ? ” 

Should a Christian man return evil for good 
Should a gentleman insult, either by neglect or overt 
indignity, a lady, and his equal ? — one never accus- 
tomed, from birth, education, or life-long association, to 
weigh the dictate of conscience in the balance of expe- 
diency ; and, consequently, little qualified — despite some 


60 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


reverses that would have crushed a parvenu spirit bach 
to its plebeian level — to tolerate moral cowardice in posi 
tions which might (if they do not) enable the incum- 
bent to act promptly and rightly, without first consult- 
ing a rent-roll or barometer of caste. 

Should a man of the world, knowing the world^s 
maxim, nemo me impune lacessit, and himself, evi- 
dently, “a man of like weakness and passions with 
others,^^ venture^ while adopting, unconsciously per- 
haps, her brief clerical portrait, and accepting her 
gift, to turn round and smite the giver too rudely on 
the one cheek, in the presumptuous hope that she 
alone of all the world would, by the grace of God, 
evince “that meek and quiet spirit which turns the 
other also ? ” Should a humane man — aware that 
though “ the spirit of a man may sustain his infirmity, 
yet a wounded spirit who can bear ? ” — do this, when 
the naturally keen susceptibilities of the woman had 
become morbidly sensitive by severe and long protracted 
mental and physical torture ? Should a prudent man, 
a mere denizen of earth, “earthy,'^ and no Ithuriel seated 
on a sunbeam, hold himself more scathless from a wo- 
man's pen, than did Napoleon in his hour of prime ? 
Should a politic, worldly-wise man, even, so wantonly 
dissipate that “ odor of superior sanctity,'" that prestige 
of an unction from on high, on which his social as well 
as sacerdotal supremacy, so preeminently rests ? 

Above all, should the disciple esteem himself so 
much “ wiser than his Master, or greater than his Lord,'" 
that he can venture to offend his “ little ones," that he 
can contemn the plain ritual of his instructions, pro- 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


61 


claiming wliat is that religion “ which is pure and unde- 
filed before God and the Father — that he can dare to 
say, I will not, when the Great Shepherd says, feed 

MY SHEEP ? 

And, finally, is it meet that He, by whose stripes 
we are healed,^' should be again stricken and wounded 
in the house of his friends — that He whose kingdom “ is 
not of this world,^^ should be thus publicly mocked and 
insulted by his own “ Ambassadors '' fiaunting the livery 
of ‘Hhe god of this world in his face, vaunting his 
maxims and outstripping his own votaries in the race, 
till the profane world itself is shocked, and turns round 
to inquire, not what do ye more” but why do ye 
WOKSE than others ? ” 

m iSi 


CHARITY. 

Latest style and most orthodox paMern, for pious Mrs. Plutus to 
read a New Publication through^ decline the purchase, and in^ 
suit the author with the offer of “ donations I ” 

A HORSEMAN comes with boot and spur. 

My lord returns him thanks with speed : 

“ And wherefore so, most noble sir ? ” 

Because you did not bring your steed ! ” 

A reason good, why I should thank 
This opera-going a-per ! 

She read, Tis true, but to be frank, 

She did not steal — the type and paper ! 

Lady Lackland, 2d Lictor, 


62 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


P. S. ‘‘ How honest grows the city queen/' 

(So CraV, a saucy South, maintains) 
Bodies she used to take, I ween. 

But now she only takes the brains ! ''' 

L. L. 


NEW BROOM. 

Such a dust ! Needn’t think to throw it in my 
eyes though ; don’t put her glamour on me. I’ll promise, 
if she has got the evil eye ! ” My poor aunt Betsey ! 
who would have thought it ? I won’t believe it any 
how ! — No, there never was any room under that old 
beaver for “ a bee in the bonnet,” — she’s bewitched her, 
that’s certain ! 

I see you don’t believe it — ^how should you ? You 
-haven’t caught her — her with Uncle Sam's commission 
in her pocket, — and a better or wiser he never made, for 
never were such another office and incumbent so exactly 
fitted to each other, — going about to disgrace herself 
and me, by consorting with — you dont know how it 
hurts me to expose my venerated relative, but the truth 
must come — with a poetizer ! 

Oh, you may shake your head, but it’s no use ; I’d 
wag mine all day if it would do any good, or drive olf 
this new waif of hers, the impudent minx, to set plain, 
straightforward words all a crabbing — cruikshankiiig de- 
cent English into doggerel— and then bring me in, 
art and part,” to such atrocities ! May rhyming seize 
me, if I don’t believe it was this very 7ia?'p-y herself 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


that set the brother ghouls, elves, and jackals, on the 
trail of poor lost Mr. Dick, and between you and me 
and the gate post,'' haven't a doubt she made way with 
my respected aunt's excellent old specs, lest she should 
put a stop to her own infamous proceedings ! 

Now, not a purse-proud old dotard can presume to 
make a fool of himself, but he's down in a proclamation, 
and up in a pillory — not a supercilious editor ignore 
the difference between not being prepared and ^^not 
being called upon," not a son of a decimal refuse a lady 
a trivial act of common civility, and keep her waiting 
in the hot sun bothering " about a few fractions of 
percentage till she faints outright, — not a lord spirit- 
ual " or a lord temporal," nor even a fancied nob (and 
pitiful snob), the veriest scum thrown up by the seeth- 
ing elements of society, can neglect the amenities or 
outrage the humanities ; but she's down upon him with 
a sermon or squib, just as if our respectable firm was 
nothing more than a regular varse factory, where they 
turned out poetry to order ! And such po-e-try, ye 
gods, only listen ! 

“A new-fledged author does her utmost to be civil, 

(Most people worship still the Spirit of all Evil), 

Yet you’re ‘ not called upon to praise or blame,’ you say ! 

And were you to be rude, sir chivalry, I pray ? ” 

There's Scripture measure for you, and again — 

“ ^ A rose by any other name would smell as sweet’ — 

It might, if one could trust his own especial nose ; 

But Shakspeare, dear, that does not prove it right or meet. 

To call each dry, old, crabbed stick, by name of rose ! ” 


64 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


No more it don’t, and how edifying that must be to 
all innate intelligences who “don’t care to read any 
more ” (and never did read any before), though I’ve 
known people that liked to hear something new occa- 
sionally ; but isn’t this rich ? 

“ ‘My Lady Lackland’s gone deranged, they say ! ’ 

A quiz, you may be sure, what proof, I pray ? 

‘ Too much, alas ! the case is very plain — 

She thought to find a gentleman in Wayne ! ’ ” 

“ Bich,” of course it is ; but you see she’s got no 
more conscience than a corporation (little enough, for 
that matter, to set up half a dozen of them, it’s my be- 
lief), so if a word happens to suit rhyme, or measure, 
down it goes ; and if it chances to mystify the reader, 
so much the better, for she’s taken up an absurd crotchet, 
that facts belong to the public, names to the owners, as 
if the first mother s son could ever relish the most ill- 
natured epigram ever seen, if it didn’t take off his own 
particular ; so you’ll have to find out by your learning 
whose 2)articular withers are wrung, or whether “ Ken- 
tucky ” means, Khamschadtka or Kham-Tartary in this 

PROCLAMATION EXTRAORDINARY. 

“Ho! ” fair sister States, Kentucky sends greeting, 

And fopling of fifty or sixty, with care; 

He “lives upon Love,” (and other good eating, 

For the hoy-god himself couldn’t dine upon air) ; 

But the urchin slipped olf, a bride was his aim. 

And he didn’t count less than three strings to his bow 
To “ AaZ/ court ” each lass, “ then choose ” was the game,’ 

And he’s out— hut, sonny, your mother does know I ’ 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


65 


And fair-play’s a jewel, so lest some mistake 

Cause bellehood to fall by the shaft of your bow, 

I’ve ordered a limner some charcoal to take, 

And sketch, my fine lark, your full portrait below. 

J^ull length of one who guzzled^ while abusing good honest milk 
as “ chalky sugar and water f and boasted that he could marry 
any girl in Kentucky. 

An ancient Adonis, and sleek-looking calf, 

Needs chalk, &c., just to relish his tea : 

He’s able to buy, but too stingy by half. 

So — “ a penny, please sir, pray give it to me ! ” 

Ye kind-hearted landlords, just grant him his prayer, 

But don’t board him a day unless he’ll agree 
To pay without grumbling at least double fare. 

For you’ll have to fork over good rations for three. 

The belles of Kentuck all worship this star. 

Though he dyes his gray hair, as most ev’ry one knows ; 

Yet still he consents to wed “ on the squar’ ” 

So look to your blinds, there he eaves-dropping goes. 

Such charms must attract ; so he writes himself down, 

And dreams of a wife, not that beauty should dare 
To think and to say that this “ man about town ” 

Has ears very long, and heart of hardware. 

Done at the old stamping-ground^ under our hand and seal. 

Kentuokiana. 

After that state secretaryship no common mortal 
would have compromised dignity by ever looking at any 
thing short of a president, nabob, or governor, at the 
very lowest ; but listen : — 

“A Yankee So-so and stuffed-feog of dimensions, 

(Both dukes you may know in ‘high life below stairs,’) 


66 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


Talk loud of their ‘big men,’ with knowing pretensions, 

And look, like two little ones — ^putting on airs! ” 

She’s clearly not canny,” and what does she next 
but get 

DEATH AND DECIMAL IN A QUANDARY. 

“ ‘ I’m puzzled,’ says Death, what to do with his soul. 

Or the Gripe-all’s career had long since been run ; 

Wliy the petrified heart might fatten a ghoul. 

And for soul — bless your life he never had one ! 

But his dimes, oh, his dimes ! how shall I contrive, 

For the son of a gnome won’t budge from his ore ? ’ 

Place a mint over Styx and in he will dive. 

Charge Charon a fee, and win ‘ a fip more ! ’ 

“ The plan’s very good, but friend Plutus maintains 
That he never xoill trust that mortal alive — 

'With nothing but brass in the locale of brains — 

Who with gods and with men such bargains would drivo I ” 

“ Of Queen City, then, let Sir Saveall beware. 

Or she’ll use him up quite — ^bones, bristles, and all. 

For he’s very well ^smoked' (though tough), and with care 
His parchment will serve — any purpose that’s smaU^ 

Oh, a very vigilant and impartial officer is she, past 
a doubt, nothing too high for her impudence or low for 
her notice ; but I’m not going to be gibbeted in rhyme, 
or hung in hexameters or Hexhamheaths, whichever it 
is, because I don’t know father from son ! And if she 
wants introduction to one Captain Scalplock, just let 
her offer to string ''long-winded” into metre, or come 
scouting about down in "the nation” here, where I’m 
studying the art of slow torture under the illustrious old 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


67 


sachem Pinesplinters, with an “ eye single ” to the 
benefit of insolent old gaberlunzies, eternally bawling 
out Brevity, with their mouths all full of supereroga- 
tion, as if their readers would ever know the thing by 
sight, or the fee-simple of all palaver belonged to them ; 
and other people were bound to talk out of their die 
tionaries, and had never a grammar of their own, or any 
right to put wit in five columns because they can put 
stupidity in six ! 

If so very anxious to see the myth, why don't they 
look into the retort where some fool-for-his-pains distils 
their atoms of idea from infinity of vapor ? Do they 
expect a candidate for the first honors of bush-fight to 
march up one line of ordinary " and down another, 
enfilade a whole chevaux-de-frise of critics, and bring up 
against a blank wall of incomprehensibility ; just as if he 
couldn't dodge them as well as encyclopoedias, turn their 
flanks, spike their guns, rifle their stores, and scatter 
their munitions of war, whenever he chose ? 

If they do, they've missed — that's all ! 

Crabtree Ap Crab', Lictor. 


WHAT A BOOK MIGHT BE GOOD FOB. 

^Twere no sort of use, for I never do read ! " 

Quite likely. Sir Coattail, of genus called flash 

* “ The race of men is almost extinct ; the majority are nothing but 
coattails walking behind a moustache” — Fanny Feen. 


68 


FAMILY PAPEKS AND 


But then your sweet self is the subject I need, 

To witness how well I can lay on the lash : 

So bide a wee now, and Tdl presently show 
How great were the use in your situation ; 

For books, it is proved, as all men should know, 

Are dements” good of civ-il-i-za-tion \” 

Lady Lackland, 2d Lictor, 


CAP FOB HEADS THAT FIT. 

Spontaneous productions,’" says Cheatem to Niel, 
Men may take for their need, as onward they pass ” — • 
Thin, holy St. Patrick, this country, I feel. 

Has PLANTS rather rare of that very same class. 

That grow without culture in wild-field and wood — 
Since hooks and umbrellas "tis no harm to steal. 

They come up, in coorse, for the commonwealth’s good 1 " 
Lady Lackland, 2d Lictor, 


PUFFS AND PUFFERS. 

Blank, Blank. 

Having examined this work a la critic, that is, felt 
of the paper, looked at the type, title-page, finale and 
binding, our opinion is, that another of the “green ’uns” 
has given us a book, which any one may purchase that 
likes, though we don’t choose to read. 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


69 


Now tliat s very like what I call swindling ! Do 
you knoWj sir^ that that very book cost the author cash^ 
if not brains ? And what right have you, Scissor Snip- 
pings, Es(]^., more than any other man, to appropriate 
he same without some sort of equivalent ? Are you 
sure the poor wretch went bootless and napless, if not 
cold and hungry, to bed, in order to pay you that tri- 
bute ? Who told you the lady wasn’t peer of the 
proudest, that her wedding ring gilt the otfering to your 
hand ? You might have been hoaxed ! Suppose now 
you hadn’t, after all, such an unquestionable right to 
the homage, without giving so much even as a nod of 
receipt in return ? Just imagine, my lord premier or 
lady patroness, naming you to brilliant beauty as Mr. 
the accomplished gull, who silently accepts the charity 
of author’s brains, or tells a tantalized public they lie 
on his table, delighted heiress responding, ‘^it knew 
very well they did’nt lien the crown of his hat ” — only 
think of it ! 

And you, too, you irreclaimable Softs,” will you 
never rebel ? How long must you be trod like the 
worm before you can “ turn upon power ? ” How long 
will you help Humbug 'of Tripod shovel clods on your 
own coffin ? How long will you plunge in his Balaam 
profound, whence no light flashes up from the fathom- 
less dunce-depths ? There’s enough of you, in all con- 
science ; if you’d only stand up for your rights, refuse to 
be hung before you are tried, and buried before you are 
dead, you might get justice and quid pro quo, as well 
as other folks. You braves ! squaivs, I tell you, all 
squaws ! ! 

10 


70 


•FAMILY PAPERS AND 


Here, Lady Lack’, come smoke me the moths that 
fret out the fibres of these delicate, spiritual, spiritless 
little gossamer wings. Crab’, the haughty old savage, 
vows he won’t hunt any such pitiful pests. 

“ Old Tomahawk’s right, better blood he should draw, 

The meanness of theirs wmuld infect the north star ; 

The game in this chase is leneath an old squaw. 

Toad, magpie or crawfish were nobler by far ! 

’Tis an insect of Tripods Humboldt wouldn’t class, 

So authors come on, this task must be oure ; 

The defaulter's there, right in front of the glass. 

With ‘ line ’ and fair promise — his critique, ye powers, 

No man ever saw, though the swindler don’t fail 
To boast and to hide all his quiddam honore- - 
(If ’tis honor and wit, don’t grudge the ‘black mail,’ 

For man, I am sure, never needed it more.) 

No diamond of genius can Tinseltop prize, 

Gilt and vellum he'll have, whatever befall ; 

The helpless and poor Uppertenny espies. 

And sponges with pleasure a largesse from all. 

But one Conscientious^ well knowing no bays 
Could survive, in the germ, his battering line. 

Don’t sully its leaf with the breath of his praise. 

That slime of the worm on the statue so fine ! ” 

Bravo, Lady Lack’ ! High time these old censors ” 
were censorized ! — had it all their own way a long 
time — “ sauce for the goose ^ sauce for the gander f — 
Poor rule that won’t wprk botliAvays” — never mind the 
hornets. 


Betsey Trotwood, Censor, 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


71 


^ MRS. aRUNDY AND EASTERN EDITOR TO 
SOUTHERN AUTHOR. 

Buy Southern born thought ! That were treason indeed, 
To rebel in arms, '^aid and comfort at least ; 

If you’d only die off perhaps we might read 
Pelf’s good for us Pubs, and all masters down East, 
You vassals don’t know, when ’twill do to be pleased y 
But starve as you ought, and for genius is fit. 
Prestissimo then, how your work will be seized — 

Some Yankee goose quill giving gracious permit. 

In mean time remember, if still you will write, 

That never a courtier his fortunes did mend 
Who wilfully stood in his own very light, 

Daring farther than king, his bow shaft to send ! 

Jjc i'jr 


SOUTHERN AUTHOR TO MRS. ORUNDY. 

My charming old woman, I hear what you say. 
For croaking lord Tripods don’t heed them at all ; 
Though they’d do very well to keep out of way. 
The safest place always for things that are small ; 
But stand by for once, and see the fair playf 
If you value their heads as much as the tin,” — 
Now Tripod, my dear, don’t set up a squawl ! 
You’ve kept us all out, for many a day ; 

But dead or alive, I am hound to come inf 
And Tis pity to waste good powder and ball. 

Lady Lackland, 2c? Lictor, 


72 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


VALENTINE FOR THE LOUISVILLE JOURNAL. 

(lost or mislaid by OEIOrSTAL CONSIGNEE.) 

Mr. Editor : — 

If that sectarian clapperclawing in the Louisville 
papers is “ a free fight, count me in for a few licks ; 
and if your readers see more impiety in Saladin's scimetar 
than Eichard’s hattleaxe, or any one fails to see that a 
man may occasionally write en infidel, for the better 
edification of belligerent orthodoxy, without being a 
regular Turk, or worse Christian than his neighbors, 
then much joy may he have of his stupidity — it’s a very 
happifying agency — my far-famed models, the distin- 
guished Braves, Hurl-the-tomahawk, and Light-the- 
splinters, never could have victimized him — let him 
thank God and take courage, for he has abundant rea- 
son. 

Yours, 

Crabtree Ap Crab’, 1st. Lictor, 

And heir-apparent to that leautiful old scatter-gun 
of the accomplished chief, Miss-the-Taeget. 

Chickasaw Bluffs, Fel. lUh, 1854. 


Mr. Prentice: — 

I’m astonished at you ! Have you never seen my 
Aunt Betsey’s Inaugural ? If not, so much the worse 
for you, the law expects every man to know it (except 
the lawyers), hut here it is : 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


73 


InkhornSj Poundtexts, Compositionstioks : 

“ Attention, all of you ! Try and keep quiet, and walk a chalk, 
will you ^ I ve got something else to do besides following you up 
all the while to keep you from making perfect siUies of yourselves; 
butjust let me catch you playing the fool with your ‘little-go’ 
stirring up, and perverting President Pierce’s twenty-six battalions 
any where in this republic ot letters, and see if I’m not down upon 
ou with rod and lictor > ’ 


“ March 4!h, 1853.” 


“Betsey Trotwood, Censor, 


Well now you see what authority you're indicted 
under, and needn't go to putting on that innocent, don’t 
know nothin’, haven’t done nothin’ sort of look, unless 
you want to be taught after the manner of the men of 
Succoth '' with the briers and thorns of the wilderness," 
for you know well enough you have ! 

But what has come over you ? Is there such a mil- 
dew in the lapse of a few miserable years " that you 
can t be the same genial, whole-hearted, magnanimous 
soul you used to be ? Once, when some hungry vally- 
de-sham,” under- scullion, or out-door sub of a by-gone 
dynasty, cried lustily for '' more pap " in behalf of his 
famishing wife and children, then who but you was the 
very first man to come forward, declaring that although 
constitutionally and teetotally opposed to that kitchen 
cabinet and the whole menage, you could not and would 
not harden your heart against such pathetic appeals to 
charity ; and forthwith set up a contribution-box, and 
reported a brass button, rusty nail, and pewter pap- 
spoon " as the result of your humane exertions ? Now 
— and oh what a fall is there my countrymen " — I'm 
actually afraid to trust you with this little bit to a 
4 


74 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


bridle king Solomon long since prescribed ; though if 
long cal's would only bray any where else it wouldn t 
much signify ; but here in the newspaper, your news- 
paper that has in the main set them a much better 
example,* it’s a little too bad, indeed “ our sufferings is 
intolerable ! '' 

Without wishing to broach any new heresy, or flatter 
you in the least, I must say, that all things considered, 
newspapers are, I think, rather an item in modern liter- 
ature, and on the whole I like some of them. Am, in 
short, a good deal indebted to one or two for my exten- 
sive knowledge of men and things in general — at least 
that is my impression, though if any man chooses to be 
contentious, I don’t wish to be too positive, if the know- 
ing ones insist that I might have risen to be first LictOr, 
been just as wise, and written quite as well without ever 
having seen one, perhaps I might, they ought to know 
best ; still newspapers are good to read and light cigars, 
and I am good to read and smoke them. I don’t pre- 
tend to explain the cause of that either — perhaps I 
haven’t got the time, perhaps I should be off skylarking 
tit something else if I had — I’ve known people to do the 
like before— but time was, when, by edging carefully 
round the grand achievements, I could even venture to 
look into a religious (beg pardon) sectarian paper of a 
Sunday without catching the Polemics, which I take to 
be one of the worst distempers that can infect any com- 
munity ; now if I can take a bird’s eye peep at yours 
of a week day, without being seduced into castigating 
other people’s faults instead of mending my own, it’s as 


* No allusion to the Ward trials. — S kc. 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


75 


much. And here you begin to get an inkling of my 
grievance and your misdemeanor, but only an inkling, 
mind you, Im too much in a hurry (witness my speed) 
for any thing else ; a fact I mention for your encourage- 
ment, because you might, you know, get uneasy lest I 
was about to '' speak mj speech and be off. 

No, no, mine ancient,^^ it’s out of fashion now, 
and with all your faults I love you still ” too well for 
that ’ and besides it takes my aunt Betsey, who hasn’t 
the advantage of being a half-breed and knowing how 
to shoot all round the tree, and from every leaf and thorn 
of a Crabtree chapporal, to do those sort of things. I 
hold it a useless waste of raw material when the value 
of an article (1 11 take this one out in advertising) is 
measured by the yard ^ but honestly and soberly, we 
poor sinners do have hard measure dealt out to us every 
way. 

If we don’t go to church, or trouble ourselves about 
such things at all, then we are a set of hardened repro- 
bates or graceless Gallios ; if we do, it’s as like as not 
only to see our betters do the devotions, hear that their 
Maker is going to take them to heaven in spite of them- 
selves, and send us to perdition because we can’t get 
there in spite of him, for all of which we are exhorted 
to love him very dearly, and praise him devoutly, be 
cause he has made us to hate him most cordially and 
be punished everlastingly. And then these judges elec.^ 
— quite enamored with the prospect of sitting on our 
cases hereafter, and as much incensed at seeing their 
meaning evoked from general expansion into visual 


76 


FAMILY PAPEBS AND 


angle, — must needs practice sentencing and tormenting 
us before the time. 

They have humbugged us out of our Almanac, 
banned the dance, outlawed the theatre, confiscated the 
decanter, and stolen our novels, and all this we have 
borne ; but when it comes to laying violent hands on 
our newspaper, the secular newspaper, then we say 
hands off! We don't presume to lay our ungodly 
fingers on your righteous columns, we don't need to be 
told that flippancy can't answer, nothing short of acri- 
mony can pass muster there, we are cast out of the 
synagogue, but this curbstone is ouks ! And now we 
say to you, keep out 'of our broad road " if you don't 
ioant to be bespattered — don't rub your lawn against our 
sackcloth and then smite us if you get defiled, don't 
reflect your thoughts and acts both on our sensorium, 
and then turn blade in the face, if we show them up 
daguerreotyped in words; for verily we of the “profane" 
are shocked at your insolent, all-patronizing, lord-para- 
mount airs, of having religions made to order, as if the 
Almighty had nothing else to do but match his ethics 
to your politics ! Above all, don't bring any more of 
your “ brotherly love " to our market, — we know exactly 
what it's worth, for we’ve seen enough of it, we have. 
If you fancy these amiable little family bickerings, why 
can't you amuse yourselves among yourselves, without 
tampering with our especial ? If made over to you in 
fee-simple, he could only teach, never learn you, how to 
wield a polished, knightly lance ; but does mortal man 
suppose his readers could be “ sold " by that little gem 
of a “ pious fraud " of yours ? That transparent effort 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


77 


to throw on a rival church, the odium of denying an un- 
popular dogma, in the face of evidence enough 
contra to sink a ship ? Did true man ever so blacken 
the fair fame of his own beloved, with the reflected stain 
of such gratuitous and most mendacious poltroonery ? 
Of course not ; hurra then, for the valiant volunteer, the 
gallant little brave who undertakes to run the gauntlet, 
encoded in rope enough to tie him hand and foot, and 
throw him to the Choctaws ! 

But oh, Mr. Prentice, Mr. Prentice ! “ call you this 
a backing of your friends,” — is this the way you suffer 
them to write themselves down ? I'm afraid you’ve 
been contaminating your fingers with their vile bribes,” 
— ^yet no, — you surely haven’t fallen quite so low as all 
that, at least I shall never offer you any such base in- 
dignity, for if you haven’t taken final leave of all dis- 
cernment, as well as human sympathy, you must see it 
would be putting the change in the wrong pocket this 
time ; if you have, remember the sad doom of one 
Sammy Houston, and consider yourself kepri- 
MANDED ! ” 

But why didn’t you let me know you were in want 
of stupid articles ? If ever you get out again, just tele- 
graph down our way, and it shall go hard, but I’ll send 
you a whole dozen of my best opaque, rather than you 
should lack a foil to your wit, or I the pleasure of see- 
ing it flash and glitter through the clear obscure. Theirs 
are no use, you know yourself ’twould be more than your 
life is worth, to dare draw that two-edged sword of 
yours on one of them ; but do pray tell me, what is to 
become of the poor children who have, it seems^ got a 


78 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


most unpopular-odox Sunday School book that is read- 
able without threat or promise (whose munificent fulfil- 
ment they’d be apt to remember ever after as often as 
they thought upon nothing), and was ever so lucky a 
man, as the Reverend Author ? 

To be sure the smell of so much ecclesiastical pitch 
does rather make a poor old fogy of a red skin sigh for 
the good old times.” Talk, talk,” he says, no 
good, PINE SPLINTERS hevy much good ; but I’m resolved 
what I’ll do — I’ll turn author too ! ” 

Talent’s nothing, tact is all — it’s only “ to hold on 
like grim death ” to my share of the family papers and 
official documents, steal the balance, give the whole some 
rickety-cranky, outlandish, impudent title, throw in a 
few rounds of grape and canister at somebody’s particu- 
lar Ism, get some of its great guns to fulminate me 
into notoriety, and my fortune’s made ; — provided I don’t 
make a mistake and wake up the wrong passenger ! ” 
In that case I shall have to explain to all the Altissimas 
Sanctissimas, privately, that it’s a mere ruse de 
guerre, or complimentary salute in disguise ; and when 
the ‘^lesser lights” comprehend, that it is, in fact, a 
tacit admission of their potency, they can’t in conscience 
be very implacable at a little financiering blunder, when 
all the world must know, that if practice had the small- 
pox, principle never need be in danger, or in other words, 
that ‘^religion is one thing, and business another.” 

Crabtree Ap Crab’, Is^ Lictor. 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


79 


PROXY LECTURE. 

Of the angeliferom'''' Mrs> jSenj!7ec^,(wiFE of her daughter'' smitor^ 
and much rexed at having to corfese to “ Specs ^')on the “ sin ” of 
L, Lds self-sustaining effort. 

Don't writhe any more, don't offer to rise, 

Such efforts are shocking to good Christian eyes ! 

They must pain you, I'm sure, why don't you desist ? 

If once out of sight, you'd be happily missed ; 

And consider, 'tis sinful to struggle again. 

Say layman and priest, the kind-hearted men, 

For since you are killed, you had much better die ; 
Indeed, you might yet if you only would try. 

It's your duty I'm sure — the Potters-field's nigh ; 

So quit all this breathing, and stark and stiff lie ; 

‘ Not die till gour time ? " — that is very malign, 

For to feelings like mine, exquisitely fine, 

'Tis distressing to hear how sadly you sigh. 

And my eye’s getting dim — now don't make me cry. 

But look to the Lord," and soar up on high. 

Quick, ’quick ! I entreat, should the callous come by, 
They'd care very little, above or below. 

But send you right off — where they're like to go ! 

i',f >!? iS 

What an angel we are, just dropped from the sky. 

And how saintly we talk, says Cynic close by ; 

But should fortune yet make some turn in her wheel, 
Compelling the heartless in their turn to feel. 

And sleep in an alms-house, or matches to cry. 

Perhaps they would think it less sinful to try. 

And if human I keep, will endeavor to buy. 

Lady Lackland, 2d Lictor. 


80 


FAMILY PAPEES ANP 


NOMINALS ONLY. 

Such mystics, sucli mystics ! as some I have seen, 
Ancient Henry ” must pass in his lodge, I ween ! 

If a poor fainting wretch is struggling to stand. 

The pocket, they know, is the place for the hand ; 

If he needs any help, why just let him call. 

And they'll stand out of reach, and leave him to fall ; 
When down in the ditch, he'll tumble no lower. 

And boot-toes can show him the other side " shore 1 
If St. J ohn were to vow he had a good claim, 

They'd vow to St. John that it was a great shame ; 
And Archangel Gabriel bis book needn't touch — 
Several entries of his mightn't please overmuch ! 

Dark spots on the sun " are these children of night,— 
“ A stain like a wound " on its spirit of light ; 

F or if it has much of Esprit du corps, 

It worships the right, teuth, and mercy, still more. 
True Mystics have souls, the Hybrids have none 
Worth seeldng at all when the grand race is run. 

In Hybrid's own town the former are rare ; 

For genius or justice the last do not care. 

And of Masonry's self large draughts it would take 
Those nominals there half human to make ; 

A Millerite tract is the height of their ken. 

And juleps, gauds, cards, suit Fanny Fern's men. 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


81 


“ Once there was an old woman/' the parrots all cry — 
(The myth, it is thought, was the ghost of a lie,) 

A.nd their “yarns" of false claims are true as Jack's 
bean — 

Impostors, I'm certain, were never so green. 

“ Fine talk they may make," says the world standing by 
“ But for BROTHERLY LOVE, it's ^ all in my eye ; ' " 

So since Mrs. Grundy has caps “ wide awake," 

And watches each turn of the brilliant opaque, 

With demi-surmise, that its secret consists 
In donning the armor and shunning the lists. 

They'd do well to see that its credit's at stake. 

And some little to show, for appearance's sake ; 

For broad mystic mantle must trail in the dust. 

When its ancient folds screen the false to their trust ! ^ 
Lady Lackland, Lictor. 

* Ho allusion, perhaps^ to enlightened casuists, who consider it a 
Christian duty to outrage and vilify stupid impostors who cannot 
see how funds solemnly pledged to a specific purpose can be honestly 
reappropriated, or absorbed without leave or license, be the exi- 
gence what it may, if left per force of the merest casualty tempo- 
rarily accessible ; and none of course to retrospective legislation 
and other ingenious expedients for ignoring claims, and neglecting 
tf not insulting claimants even when seeking merely “ aid and com- 
fort,” not alms. But if dignified officials, like Miss Betsey Trot- 
wood’s Lictoe, can’t behave magnanimously, like king Lion when 
he saw what it was that was braying after him, but must needs 
descend to personalities, and defining positions like any Uncle Sam’s 
mouthpiece ; or feel bound by tenure of office, to expose injustice 
and castigate insignificance for the good of the public and the 
honor of their livery, then we insist that the thing shall be fairly 
understood, and no unwarrantable pretensions based on that hono- 
rary condesc<*nsion hereafter. And so, by Lady Lackland’s leave, 


82 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


LIGHT FEOM ON HIGH. 

ON SEEING A FAIR SOFT LOOK OF HAIR, TAKEN FOR A WIDO'WED 
MOTHER FROM THE GRAYE OF AN ONLY SON, THIRTEEN MONTHS 
BURIED. 

She missed it, oh, she’d missed it long. 

That buried lock of youth’s bright hai 

It came, a glory, joy, and song, 

A waving light on summer air ; 

But orange groves wore deeper night. 

For death had deck’d him in its wave, 

Yet woman’s love, and sorrow’s might. 

Have won this trophy from the grave. 

Oh thing of human life and breath. 

Oh waving plume from angel’s brow. 

Type of the life that knows not death. 

Light of two worlds is on thee now ! 

Gushes of song from seraph chords, 

Bedeeming love are echoing here ; 

And thoughts too fine* for mortal words 
Are floating round the spirit’s ear. 

we are not going to have any seven cities set together by the 
ears, for this nettle wreath she’s flung down for all whom it 
may concern to scramble after,— no, not if we have to toss it over 
in plain prose, to live sundries at 0. in geographical, not moral, 
boundaries of Kentucky. They, in turn, must not begrudge a 
leaf or so to such other “ individuals ” as may feel unjustly over- 
looked or set aside ia the disposition of these touching souvenirs. 
—Note per Sec. 



OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


83 


Oh human love, oh Christian faith, 

How bright ye blend in woman's tear ; 

My son — my son ! " that mourner saith, 
I've found the lost, they buried here. 

“ My lost is found I All pitying one. 

That mortal pang is laid to rest ; 

Past is all doubt, my son, my son, 

I see thee on thy Saviour's breast ! ' 

God cheer thee, mother, thou hast given 
A gem to light a holier shrine ; 

And earth has many stars of Heaven 
That need such guiding hand as thine. 

L. L. 


ONLY A SLIGHT DIFFERENCE. 

A BEDSTEAD of irou had Procrustes of old. 

And limhs stretched, or lopped, till they fitted, I'm told , 
Procrustes the Modern, quite civilized grown. 

In Gotham sets up his “ respectahle " throne ; — 

Not honor or Truth will he have for its base. 

But choice Punic faith — the classic old grace. 

No axes has he, gold is vastly more nice 
To hack and to hew human souls in his vise ; 

Backs, gauntlets and drills must be very fine sport, 

For never had despot so loyal a court ! 

No step of a freeman, his chaplains dare take, 

Calls, Sunday by proxy, they do dare to make ; 


84 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


Pattern-subjects are they, worth sketching for fame-»- 
If the artist sketch well, they’ll know by his name. 
King’s‘So So’you’ll find on abundance of tools, 

(They’re lying all round in the liv’ry of fools) 

He breathes on the heart, and they smile as his knife, 
Improves in its turn, ev’ry comfort from life. 

Or sigh o’er life’s victims, their sorrows and sin, 

(When they’re quite out of reach, or wear a black skin,) 
And mourn o’er the heathen, their blindness and 
wrongs — 

If the heathen comes in, they pick up the tongs. 

Ten commandments engraved on tables of stone. 

Less incumbent they hold than etiquette’s one. 

And Death mean to distance, by dashing on ^^fast ” — 
Avernus is nothing, Elysium means CASTE ! 

Nobility knows itself noble ; but hard 
Its spuriac struggles to show it, by card ; 

And from modesty, pure, is forced into lies. 

Where gentlemanly instinct ought to suffice j 
And if summoned to heav’n, would lackey send in 
To see if Twere all ‘‘point device ” to a pin— 

Like people^ like priest, “ Sword ” conquers the whoD 
And stretches the conscience, and lopps off the soul. 

Lady Lackland, 2d Lictor, 

* Gold is the old man’s sword, and how they do hack and 
hew withal ! — Old No'fel. 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS.# 


85 


AKY THING FOR A TEXT, 

“ Gives improper publicity to a family quarrel.” 

Bepitted OHMque on “ Etjth Hall.” 

Oh, a ‘^Family quarrel'" is there Well, that's 
NEWS — the innocent Mr. Public will he immensely scan- 
dalized, for he knows, brother offended is harder to 
he won than a strong city; ” but Mother, is that 
D-o-d," or only one of the burning and shining lights 
of that tongs-and-telescope philanthropy, 

“ Which sighs o’er life’s victims, their sorrows and sin, 

When they’re quite out of reach, or wear a black skin ; 

And mourns o’er the heathen, their blindness and wrongs, 

But if heathen comes in, just picks up the tongs? ” 

Don't begin to know, or care, who you are, Mr. Ice- 
berg Supercilious, any more than I know for certain 
who, or what Fanny Fern is, or am green enough to 
suppose she's any nearer to precisely what you or she 
represent, than she would be less likely than you, master 
Hyacinth," or any other honorable member of the 
mutual admiration (or vituperation) society," to turn 
up her nose at a new competitor ; but any thing for a 
text, you know — she and your critique will do, for want 
of better. 

And now, don't you feel your moral sense and per- 
sonal dignity (two parts self-conceit, one part code 
conventional) a little outraged, and your propriety 
pulse a little qqickened, by her telling how nicely 
Aquafortis swallows Uppertenny's sugar-plums, and 
straightway becomes eau-de-sucre ? Rather audacious 


86 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


of her, that's a fact, considering that you're one of the 
high priests of respectability, that awful Juggernaut 
invented to crush all truth and reason and common 
sense out of humanity ; not a man of like weakness 
and passions with others," at all, at all ; hut then you 
know there was a rebellion in heaven once, so it wouldn't 
be the very first, if some reckless hair-brain of the 
Guerilla corps should throw bombs and torpedoes, not 
devotees, under your wheels. The old car has, on the 
whole, made pretty respectable progress, indeed I may 
as well own, quite flattering, but one Washington once 
said, that if defeated in the lowlands, he should cross 
over the Alleghanies ! " 

Well, the Alleghanies are there still, I take it, and 
it must be discouraging, very, to see whole armies of 
interrogation-points popping away at you for every 
individual impertinence you can put down. I actually 
do pity you, for how mortified you must have been 
(knowing Adam's sons to be your brethren), when they 
would keep repeating “ how is this ? " when Fanny 
Fern, the existence, was so unequivocally claimed and 
proclaimed, by one of the very last to recognize Fanny 
Fern the chrysalis. Had Eve's daughters had half as 
much undignified curiosity, their mouths and eyes had 
all been propped wide open too, with exclamations ; for 
really it was passing strange," — considering that for 
erring woman there is no forgiveness or redemption this 
side the grave— that one, who '' didnH ' lose her rela- 
tions till she lost her own selfl-respeetfl (you know you 
said it, some of you, and so do I,) should be thus pub- 
licly and voluntarily reinstated in the family register. 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


87 


I know, too, how gladly you'd ‘^help the Lord kill 
Jemmy,” Jenny, and every mother's son and daughter 
bent on getting to the root of Fern Leaves, whether it 
enures to her or your glorification, or not ; hut it's 
no use” you might pull out all their tongues, chop 
off all their pens and right hands, and they'd still con- 
trive some way to make them work, and evince that 
“ my daughter Floy ” hadn't so entirely engrossed all 
vivid imagination,” that they couldn't fancy a hun- 
dred disgraceful things implied in a woman's loss of her 

own SELF-RESPECT.” 

Were fancy any less likely than fact, to put 
little too much red in the brush,” it would of course he 
very ungenerous to sketch the moral portrait of a dying 
enemy even, indeed I could not, for when God lays on 
his hand, mine is off ; and otherwise it's by no means 
certain I should think him worth the powder and shot 
it would take to riddle him ; hut the converse being 
true, and it being also said (and never disputed that I 
know) that 

“Earth has no pang like love to hatred turned, 

Or hell a fury, like a woman scorned,” 

you may cry Hush ” and ^^^^s-tiIl,” till you're hoarse, 
nobody cares. Fanny knows very well what kept up 
the Fern epidemic, and you can't silence the voice of 
inquiry, or annihilate the instinct of self-preservation. 
The ‘^blue hen's chickens” will do their own scratching, 
any way you can fix it,” and who are you, any how, 
Mr. Would-he-cock-of- the- walk, that you should think 
to prevent it ? 


88 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


Oh, an editor, eh ! Well, that's no great things — 
we might have been an editor too, once upon a time, 
and no promotion either, could we only have made up our 
minds we " have a right to at least two) to say. 
Brother Tripod " to the likes of you, when it often 
goes so very hard with us to put Dear Sir " at the 
beginning of a letter, and “ r-e-s-c-t-l-y," at the end, 

■ — knowing all the while that we don't mean any such 
thing ; but seeing we are just as good as one of the 
craft, (rather better it's to be hoped than lots of 
them,") and abundantly able to put you through, with 
or without the dignificado, or Bindley Murray's leave 
when to take it up or lay it down, you might just as 
well own up and be done with it. 

Come now, you set yourself up to enlighten out- 
side barbarians," be honest once, you know you never 
was afore,") and tell a body what it really does take, 
more than two or three judicious failures, or one splendid 
defalcation, and the otium cum dignitate of a long con- 
tinental tour, to constitute your ideal respectability ? 
Do you think any woman has any proper self-respect," 
that don t always send Livery to answer your ring, with 
a silver waiter, at the very least, for your card ? Do 
you think she ever had any to lose, if she can't, at this 
present, live up to five or ten thousand a year, at the 
very lowest ? And, ‘^lonor hrigU,’^ do you fairly and 
fully believe she is a woman at all, if compelled to ap- 
ply any talent God has given her, to any useful purpose 
under heaven ? I don't ! That is, I don't believe 
she's any nearer to one than you are to a coat tail 
walking behind a moustache but if such counterfeit 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


89 


feminines will outrage decorum — ^leaving off first the 
footman, then the carriage, going on from bad to worse, 
till at last they get shameless enough to appear on foot, 

I in shawls that, “ pon honor,” you don't believe ever did 
' come from Stewart's at all, or cost more than twenty- 
I five dollars any where; and that, too, in the very streets 
i where you used to watch hours and hours, at the risk 
of cold soups and sun-strokes, for the honor of a nod, 
isn't it scandalous that a little, lingering, old fogy 
squeamishness won't suffer Spirit-of-the-Age and En- 
lightened Philanthropy to drown them all off “ like so 
many blind puppies, fifteen to the litter,'' before the 
abandoned wretches go about putting out old acquaint- 
ances' eyes, and rushing them over crossings, to the 
i manifest detriment of good boot varnish and beautiful 
I deportment ! '' 

I Isn't it perfectly unbearable only you must bear 
it'') that they won't listen to reason, and leave off 
breathing, with dinners, diamonds, and operas — that 
not even their own blood relations can be allowed to 
find rope, razor, or morphine, and take them all quietly 
off, before committing such awful rents in escutcheon as 
! no aristocratic darning needle '' in the world could 
fairly mend ? Isn't it a sin and shame, that after get- 
ting up a bran-new coat-of-arms, and sacrificing to the 
graces, your sublimities can't begin to show off, without 
having or and argent besmudged and begrimed with 
; their sackcloth and blouse — perfectly infamous, that 
! you can't presume to put on the High-Mightiness, 
without having somebody flinging their disgustability in 


90 


FAMILY PAPEES AND 


your faces ? I really don't know what is to be done in 
such premises ! 

Suppose you try, legislating away the consan- 
guinity ! I've known moral obligation very summarily 
discharged by that economic process ; and when the 
impudent nuisances come to want help, instead of get- 
ting, or giving it, perhaps you can't do better. Should 
the unreasonable malcontents object, (as it's as like as 
not they will, though I shouldn't,) you can impeach 
the integrity of family records, and denounce them as 
illegitimates, or impostors. If they don't take them- 
selves out of your daylight after that, I don't quite like 
to advise extreme measures, such as indictments for 
swindling, or vagrancy ; but if worst does come to 
worst, always remember to cry Mad dog!’* before 
shooting down your enemy's poodle. Not that I expect 
any thing so prononce of your serene platitude as pal- 
pable interference, — oh no, that would never do it 

would compromise “ dignity ; " and, besides, you might 
catch a Tartar." If there's a wrinkle in your rose- 
leaf, don't open your mouth, or offer to touch it, but 
just wince, or turn up your nose, and the work, though 
never so dirty, is sure to be done ; for don't esprit du 
corps teach every man that truth and justice are 
nothing to the interests of his order ? Of course it 
does ; and the more these are imperilled from within, 
the more^ it imports him to put on an injured, above- 
all-suspicion air, hug the traitor, and hang the accuser. 
'' The more truth, the worse scandal," you know, and 
the more need of hunting him down ; so you've only to 
'•prepare to pucker," and every big dog and little of 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


91 


the whole pack, spaniel, puppy, and hound, are soon 
out in full cry. 

It^s rather hazardous, though, for if the game 
turns out “ an ugly customer,” and stands at hay, you'll 
either have to hack out, or face the music.” Dodg- 
ing the corner won't serve, — shamming blind is “no 
go,” — when you've waked up “ the wrong passenger,” 
it's no use trying to ignore his existence. Why, the 
very hoys in the street would cry “ Ostrich ! Ostrich ! ” 
— you can't escape that way ; and I tell you, man, the 
whole world is on your trail, and knows very well you've 
got a hieroglyph, that means one thing in anaglyph, 
and another in vernacular ; and how convenient it is, 
for all nowhere “wasn't there,” no-responsihility ora- 
cles. It knows, too, how manly, and honest, and high- 
minded, and, withal, Christian a thing it is, to sneer 
away a woman's good name, in innuendoes, specifying 
nothing, and implying every thing derogatory ! Saying, 
for instance, “ lost her self-respect,” meaning, very 
possibly, unlimited income, and nothing else — except to 
have the uninitiated translate it, “ no better than she 
should he” — a phrase, which all that are, know ought 
to immortalize its author, come what will of your snuh- 
bings. 

However, if it's only a woman, and you've “the 
better part of valor,” perhaps you're safe enough after 
all ; but do you honestly believe fraud, falsehood, and 
wrong, the best safeguards of honor and justice ? Do 
you really think all religion, morality, and human sym- 
pathy such unmitigated humbugs, that their perpetuity 
depends on pursuing to the death all who expose hy- 


92 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


pocrisj, vice, and oppression ; that every thing, that 
has made itself an institution,'' is so rotten to the 
core, that the first breath of investigation would topple 
it over ? Does the anointed priest always take a lie in 
his right hand with the cup of salvation ? Is the tem- 
ple, indeed, so baseless that it must totter to its fall at 
the first echo of a halting tread ? Is integrity a cheat 
— is there nothing in life hut the profoundly unreal ? 
Are friendship and dissimulation, principle and pre- 
varication, piety and pretension, all one and the same ? 
Earth has faith in their duality, even yet — sublime 
F AiTH, in a deep, pure, strong vitality, that has sur- 
vived the contact of many a foul putrescence — that 
need not fear the probe and the scalpel ! 

Have you no faith to give in return ? How much 
longer will you wrap the old charlatanry round the gan- 
grene, whose rankness smells to heaven — raise your old 
cat-caUs, ^‘Infidel;’ ^^Anti” persecute 

right with vindictive might, and think to hoodwink 
God and man into a belief of your own infallibility ! 
How much longer wfil it take you to find out that you 
can’t lay your opera kids on the great, heating pulse of 
humanity, and say, We are the Men"-— Peace-le 
still f " It strikes me, you are uncommonly stupid ! 

Crabtree Ap Crab', Is^ Lictor. 


i 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


ss 


GERTRUDE. 

Miss A., of Feankfoet, deceased m Louisiana, Feb. 14, 1855. 

So pass the loved and beautiful away, 

So pass the earthly hopes that cling to earth ; 
Flashes of light, whose meteoric ray 

J ust gilds, to doubly darken all our hearth — 
Signals hung out on frost king's mocking strand. 
Voices of home, in dreams on Franklin's shore. 
The old sweet dreams of springs, in desert land. 
Visions of sails that come, oh, never more. 

Feelings for sunbeams, with palsied hand 
Groping in darkness for music of light — 

Face of young love on the eddying sand, 

A mirage of warmth, on the iceberg's height ; 
Song of a siren, re-echoed in sigh. 

Telling the heart that melody is o'er — 

Glimpse of Immortal, on poor mortal eye. 

Yearning in blindness for it, evermore ! 

iii * * Hi «- 

Chaplets of flowers, we fondly weave. 

To crown our brows with many a thorn ; 

Alas ! for us, if on our hearts they leave, 

No fragrance from their early blighting born — 
No faith, in patient love to wait, in deed 

To strive, where life's best light returns no more, 
No closer clinging to that arm we need 

To bear our sinking feet, life's dark wave o'er ! 

L. L. 


94 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


JURISPRUDENCE EXTRA-JUDICL4.L, 

AND OTHEE JUEE-DIVINO-ISMS. 

Judge Lynch, to all the Faithful — Honor and Greeting : 

This is to notify Regulators, Capt. Slick's Com- 
panies, and all other Conservators, on their own 
hook, of public weal, that they can hereafter hold open 
court in broad daylight — hang, burn, harry, and drown 
wherever they list, right under shade of old Faneuil 
Hall, if so they please, its law-abiding Solons- having 
found out, at last, that of all the ways extant, there's 
no way for knowing nothing at all about Law, like 
spending a whole lifetime in its study and practice ! 

Humph, must have lived long, and studied hard 
some of them, then, before they contrived that legal 
knife for legal throat ! " 

^^Fact, ma'am — fishy — codfishy — crawfishy ! Eels, 
no scalps — Indian no catch skin there ! " 

Where's Lady Lack ? " 

Reconnoitring in the great Gas Factory, where the 
Messieurs Demetrius, Diotrephes & Co., put up so 
much ‘^milk of human kindness " for Bunkum. Thinks 
the vitriol-throwers might use to advantage the subli- 
mated Cream-o’ -Tartar evolved, whenever any teme- 
raire happens to hint that some of the good done in the 
world isn't so much by, as in spite of them ; — is mor- 
ally certain, that if that ubiquitous, wandering Jew of 
a mortal, that once fell among thieves, were brought 
up this way, he'd get precious little for a plaster, but 
the foam, froth, and dregs, mixed in with a double 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


95 


Bhare of the insolence of office/' and thereupon falls 
(as usual) to doggielizing, much in this wise, about 

GOOD SAMARITANISM, 

OF thp: supek-supeelative oedee. 

“ I have read, I am sure, in some chronicle old. 

Of victim half-murdered, stript, and plundered for gold — 

Not shinned^ as defaulters serve children of men, 

Thieves and robbers (more noble) were institutes then ; 

But, ‘ alack ! ’ says the Levite, ‘ I think he will die I ’ 

‘ He might do greatly worse,’ mutters priest, with a sigh, 

‘ If yon silly old heathen, to save him should try I 
Pax 'cdhucum^ my son ! ’ and he hurried on by. 

“ Now all that is changed, as I have hinted before. 

Old clothes are quite vulgar, they are wanted no more, 

And to artist accomplished, ’twere clumsy old sin. 

To strip off the clothes, gust to take off the skint 
Then our Priests of Humanity fail not to cry, 

‘ Ho ! Help for the Wounded ! ’ — ^if he is not too nigh g 
Inconveniently so, ’tis distressing, indeed. 

So they search all his pockets, to find out his creed; 

If it suits them exactly, in hue and in tone. 

He is welcome to die, untended and lone ; 

If not, they piously curse ‘ soul, body, and bone,’ 

But the papers and proofs pocket still as their own ; 

For that creed U seductive, past human mistake. 

That induces such good men a promise to break. 

That such rery good, men arrant teaitoes can make ! ” 

Don't take kindly, you see, to this new-fangled, ex- 
coLtliedTOj grammar of ethics and humanity, that sets 
‘^higher” above highest; but, probably, these born 
Solons, seraphs, and savans will teach her a good deal 
she never knew lxdi>re (and won't be like to know here- 
after) about the wicked Pagans in those remote, bar- 


96 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


f 


barous regions, where she's been nearly ever since she « 
came over. Wonder, ma'am, do pale-face medicines | 
always cure the Black Death," by striking it in — - 
think moral virus only dangerous when it comes to sur- \ 
face ? Don't pretend to say but codfish oil may be a i 
good specific ; but would as soon trust the open doors, i 
big fires, and free air of the wigwam and the prairies. 

Crabtree Ap Crab', Lictor. 


A VOICE FOR ALABAMA. 

April, 1855. 

Give ! for her hand hath scattered far and free. 

When want and war, with crushing footstep passed ; ^ 

“ Give /" for thou know'st not when may come to thee. 
Famine and death, the mildew and the blast. 

Give ! for her ear ne'er closed to human cry. 

Wrung from the fainting heart of struggling need ; 

Give ! for her priests ne'er passed the stranger by 
Coldly, for crime of section, or of creed ! 

Give ! for her bread is on all waters cast. 

Give ! for no nobler sons hath earth, than she ; 

Give ! for thy lien on earth is failing fast. 

Give ! as thy God hath freely given to thee ! 

L. L. 


The reader has not forgotten Ireland. 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


97 


CALIGRAPHOTYPE, 

Of a rathev JJpper-tennyisli^ Private Traveller Trap^ not a hundred 
leagues from where an old Tea Paety once l)oarded visitors at 
their own cost^ and the Moderns “ talce them inf free gratis. 

Imprimis. — One beautiful specimen of henpecked 
husbandry, whose duty it is to adopt and verify all 
Madame' s dislikes and asseverations ; make out weekly 
bills, by no means weakly — ^forgetting the precise day 
of arrival, so as to gain two or three in the course of a 
month ; whet an immense carving-knife, till every 
body^s nerves, are unstrung, and appetite gone ; enun- 
ciate cod-fish" and “ corned-beef or send away the 
dish, and say, cold mutton f instead of Steak, or 
mutton when the nice-looking beef-bone won't carve 
any longer ; and fight, ad interim, 

“ The battles of Freedom, like true carpet knight, 

Where colors of carpet are faded from sight.” 

Pare. — Price of provisions for breakfast, nine hun- 
dred dollars ; house-rent (very doubtful, by the by, by 
the looks of the premises) for dinner, and nothing 
special but want of victuals for supper. Mem. — Won- 
der if that whole cargo wasn't worst hlach ; think it 
must have been— harbor decoction holds out so remark- 
ably well, when people don't like it, and tastes nearly 
as bad as ever. 

But the crowning glory is to see an overwhelming 
avalanche of brawn and muscle, masquerading in fe- 
male guise ; rushing from parlor to market, from 
chamber to offices, doing the sunny or sulky dignified 


98 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


at table, tbe bland and imposing, like amiable North- 
wester, in twenty by twelve feet Drawing-room,'^ the 
fury in kitchen — storming away like any tornado, “ bat- 
ing " fifty years' old Irish women with chunks of ice," 
yet never dreaming that ears within a dozen yards can 
learn what they would rather not know, without stoop- 
ing like it, or her, to the meanness of espionage — ob- 
serve her intercepting visitors here, waylaying inmates 
there, and eavesdropping the whole household every where 
— snapping up servants at every turn and corner, cate- 
chising them, and boarders, about themselves and each 
other, and expecting Ladies to do the same — actually 
stamping her foot at a sick one for not evincing as much 
alacrity and skill as she might in playing the spy at her 
bidding, and all perhaps for fear that that most legiti- 
mate subject of all human extortion, a helpless, unpro- 
tected woman, should ultimately detect what accident 
and intuition had told her almost from the very first, 
without a question, — namely, that out of some very 
highly developed conscientiousness somewhere, she was 
only charged a fraction less or more than three times as 
much as was her predecessor, for precisely the same dis- 
accommodation ; — hear her bouncing out of bed twenty 
times of a night, unable to sleep, and rampaging " up 
and down in but one remove from a birth-day suit," 
like something demented ; because some audacious rebel 
has dared to light candle or gas long enough to read a 
note or seal a letter — find her “ brought up all stand- 
ing " in full sail for the street, on learning (accidentally, 
for once) that some such atrocity anticipated the unin- 
terrupted use, for an hour or so, of “ Twenty by Twelve" 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


99 


with the ambitious appellative — see her wheeled to the 
right-about, and presently seated alongside a huge 
stocking-basket, whose contents (supposing them to 
have been her own) didn't get patchwi^ and darning 
before , they needed it ; and evidently with the intention 
of listening to or preventing a conversation which con- 
cerned her as httle as did the contents of a note she 
intercepted the day before between street door and 
parlor. — Ample causes to justify Lady Lack, when get- 
ting wind of them, in exclaiming 

“ If seven devils were cast from one Magdalene, 

As a book often quoted most truly relates ; 

What a legion of imps might he presently seen, 

If the Lord would but exorcise Madame de-^ bates ! ” 

Crabtree Ap Crab', Lictor. 


SAYING AND DOING! WHEN AND WHERE? 

Son of mine, ^ Go work in my vineyard to-day.' " 

I will not, father stern, for 'tis sombre and gray. 

Life beckons and smiles, and I must away ; " 

But he turned him again, at the low thrilling breath, 
“ There's a master you serve, his wages is Death ! " 

Son of mine, ^ Go work in my vineyard to-day ! ' " 

I will, honored sire, thy commands I obey. 

And much I'll accomplish — but first I will play ! " 
Trifling, sycophant child, his work was not done. 

The idle, the faithless — ^knows't thou such an one ? 


100 


FAMILY PAPEKS ANT) 


Son of mine, ^ Go work in my vineyard to-day ! * ” 

“ I would, but my own, all so smiling and gay, 

Needs finishing touches, excuse me, I pray/^ 

A.nd he toyed with its tendrils, they held him in thrall, 
When he counted his gains, a thorn was it all. 

Son of mine, ‘ Go work in my vineyard to-day ! ' ” 

I would, gracious Lord, hut how can I stay. 

Care crushing my heart, want goading for aye ? ” 

So he dragged on his chain, unaided and lone. 

Earth reaping his toil, and mocking his moan. 

Son wayward and wild, all the heat of the day 
Cruel master thou'st served, now what is thy pay ? 
Dark stains on the soul, won in life's sternest fray ! 
Bitter bondage not mine thy spirit hath borne, 

My easier yoke, shall it never be worn ? 

Come back, erring son, to my vineyard to-day, 

I have kept thee, and called, and loved thee alway ; 

Is it much that ye come ? 'Tis much grace that ye 
may ! 

Work gladly, work meekly, my cross earns the crown. 
And burdens I'll bear, if ye* but lay them down. 

In paths that are hard, ye have wandered this day. 
Lost, deserted, oppressed, and sunk in dismay. 

Will ye now learn of me, ^ the truth and the way ? * 
Sick, wounded, and. faint, will ye lean on my breast, 
And come to the home where remaineth ^ A rest ' 

Say son, will ye work in my vineyard to-day ? " 

“ Oh the day is far spent, night dark'neth for aye. 

And weary and footsore, I wander astray ; " 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


101 


No strength for the culture, no skill for the toil 
Should weakness and sin encumber the soil. 

“ ChUd of mine, ^ Go work in my vineyard to-day ! * 

If’ weakly, not well, is it thine to gainsay ? 

■Who calls for thy service, knows well thou art clay, 
Has lamp for thy feet, for wounds, healing halm. 

And strength for the weakest, that clings to his arm. 

Say son, will ye work in my vineyard to-da'y ? 

Will ye hind up the stem, now drooping away. 

And win home the wild vine,, so loving to stray ? 

Will ye guard the young germ from mildew and blight, 
And sun the pale shoot that is pining for light ? 

“ Will ye gather my grapes, or cast them away. 

Will ye cherish my vines, or mock their decay. 

Will ye wait if ye must, will ye toil, if ye may ? 
Choose ! His servants ye are, whose law ye obey. 

Son of mine, will ye work in my vineyard to-day ? ” 

L. L., Supernumeraire, 


ITEMIZING. 

Where is Lady Lack ? 

Out itemizing. No great things on a scout, though 
— mortally afraid of snakes, can smell ^em fiir enough 
— don't know so well how to fend off ; hut capital eye 
on a trail. Is rather pining now for a little glimpse of 
social position — bought a new spy-glass on purpose. 


102 


FAMILY PAPEKS AND 


“No use, will have to take the back track, or pass 
over the border — -isriH indigenous in. these latitudes.*' 

Saw nothing but a miserable set of nervous rope- 
dancers, clutching and balancing convulsively about a 
sort of Al-Sirat's Arch, and some knots of bullies, called 
CLIQUES, hard at work kicking and knocking and keep- 
ing off all they could. Came back t]^uite nervous out 
of pure sympathy — wonders why the poor, unhappy 
wretches don't wear balloons to keep themselves up 
when their feet don't reach terra iirma — speaks of 
getting up a subscription to buy some. 

“ Couldn't cost much— GAS very plenty." 

Started right off for the Harvest Home of Super- 
empyrean Philanthropy — got taken aU aback ; heard 
one of the lucky reapers tell unlucky gleaner “ couldn't 
afford to drop him a single grain just then, because it 
zvas special harvest time with him ! " Simpleton com- 
prehended at once, (ought to have known before, that 
every surplus grain was bespoken long ago for exporta- 
tion,) but a woman — saving your presence — ^never will 
listen to reason. 

“ Out of her line, you know." 

Caught my Lady Impudence laughing the man 
right in his face — ^had to order her off, or she'd have 
peppered him nicely. Can't always keep up with her, 
though, — know she's been round since, found this arrow- 
head and snakeskin flung right into the teeth of Areo- 
pagites ! Had some sense in her noddle when she put 
right out after that, leaving La Supernumeraire to 
pack up and follow. 

“ What's all that choctaw about ? " 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


103 


, Timon and Ben Adhem. 

^ Ben Adhem/ who's he ? " 

Friend of Leigh Hunt’s, it’s tliouglit; Le saj» •. 

“ Aben Ben Adhem (may Lis tribe increase) 

Awoke one night from a sweet dream of peace, 

And saw within the moonlight in his room, 

(Making it rich and like a lily in its bloom,) 

An angel, writing in a book of gold. 

Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold. 

And to the Presence in his room he said, 

‘ What writest thou ? ’ The vision raised his head. 

And with a smile made all of sweet accord, 

Answered, ‘ The names of those that love the Lord.’ 

‘ And is mine one ? ’ quoth Adhem. ‘ I^ay, not so,’ 

The angel soft replied ; Ben Adhem spoke more low. 

But cheerly still— ‘I pray thee, then. 

Write me as one who loves his fellow-men ! ’ 

^ The angel wrote and vanished ; the next night 

He came again with a great wakening light. 

And showed the names whom love of God had blest. 

And lo, Ben Adhem’s name led all the rest ! ” 

“Oh yes— heard of that old Sheik before— seen 
him often ? " 

Have met him occasionally — very quiet ; meddles 
with nobody's business, unless to do them good — never 
much the rage — not worth lionizing. 

Well, — the Choctaw ? " 

♦ Yes, ma'am. 

TIMON, OE ABEN ADHEM— WHICII IS IT? 

‘ How can man love his Maker,’ St. John asks, I ween, 

‘ If he love not his brother, whose face he hath seen ? ’ 

But such humdrum old notions won’t do in these days. 

The ‘ Beloved,’ in fact, had the oddest of ways, 


i04 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


Or Philantheopy sure is a thing very queer, 

For it loves the more distant, and hates the more near : 

At a hemisphere’s length ’tis Humanity’s self 
Nearer home, a Demetrius, wedded to pelf. 

Is Bunkum’s young Phil, old Mis, inBloomerite dress? 

That they act much alike, I am' hound to confess ; 

And ‘the voice is like Jacob’s,’ — does Mis-antheopy mask. 

And who forces on cynic that Pharisee’s task? 

What enchanter is this, putting false for the true. 

And donning the fairies o’er the goblin’s foul hue ? 

Is it ‘ Distance ’ the cheat, with his harlequin sleight? 

Wo,— the old masker still, en ‘ angel of light I ’ ” 

Nice gctge de hataille, that ! My belief, ma'am, 
that if you don't interpose your authority that woman 
will dream” in rhyme before long ! 

Well, what of it ? Don't threaten to throw her 
^ gage de laiile^ as you call it (wish you would quit 
Choctaw and talk English, as every good Christian 
should), into your wigwam, does she ? " 

Not so sure ! May bark every hollow log, and send 
her small shot into every sly hole and corner in it before 
I get back. 

Dare say, it needs tidying, well as other folks." 
Suppose it does, who's going to make himself such 
an outlandish Ourang Outang up here among the 
civilized, as to keep a civil tongue in his head, and 
mind his own business like a mere honest, decent red- 
sldn ; instead of a considerably enlightened, full-blooded 
half-breed ? Not I — don't like fat babies, shan't go 
into Barnum's Museum just yet — see myself “ chawed 
up catawampously " first 1 

Crabtree Ap Crab', Lictor. 


OFFICIAL DOCUMEKTS. 


105 


THE FUGITIVE RETURNED. 

La Supemumeraire’a Valedictory. 

A TOIL-BROKEN slavGj faintingj weary, and worn, 

With the weight on her heart of the chains she had 
borne, 

Had struggled full long in the watch and the ward 

Of the tyrant she owned for master and lord 

Had struggled in sickness, in sorrow and pain. 

To 'scape the fell clutch that enchained her again. 

Ere her footsteps could reach that far freedom shore, 
Where hounds of “ old Povertas” torture no more. 

Hot gentle or noble such master could be. 

And a servant of servants " each moment felt she— 
Hot servile in spirit, but fettered in limb 
To the poor craven serf, gold fettered to him. 

So he darkened her eye, and wasted her cheek. 

And deemed that her heart, like its pulse, must be 
weak. 

For he knew not the strength, his chains could not bind 
The kingship that lives in the domain of mind ; 

But the fettered in limb, unconquered in soul. 

Beached fairly, at length, the fugitive's goal. 

And welcomes of freemen to freedom — so dear 

Hoble voices breathed out in brotherly cheer j 
But echo sends back, in the old fearful tone. 

This Fugitive Slave I claim as my own:* 

Can the Sons of the Pilgrims '' look coldly on wrong 
Will they stand for the weak, or strike for the strong ? 
5 * 


106 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


Do they battle like men for right against might ? 
Alas for the victim— she’s nothing hut white ! 


L. L. 


August^ 1865 . 


SHORTHAND NOTES, 

For the l)etter enlightenment of the half -ci'oilized Down Scuth^‘ 
and “ Out West^^^—down in '‘''The Nation'*'' moee paeticijlaelt. 

THE WAY TO DO THINGS UP PROPERLY. 

Observe Sunday — no — the Sahhath,^^ — Sunday’s 
heathenish as it would be to say am and are in place of 
— \)j putting on an immensely injured air, as if 
trying hard to keep your tempers, and not get quite 
mad enough to bite your Maker for giving you that day 
of rest, which you’d never have had the wit to give 
yourselves ; going three several times to sit under the 
droppings of the sanctuary, and looking all the rest of 
the time so awfully pious and devout, that not a dog’s 
tan, nor darky’s hair will dare to. curl for the next 
twenty-four hours ; — Monday, by washing. 

Tuesday. See if the damps of yesterday relaxed 
Dignity cords any, screw them up to proper tension, 
and recreate, by considering. First, whether the Rev. 
Dr. Get-beyond-his-depth wasn’t slightly caught nap- 
ping, when giving those beautifully incomprehensible 
metaphysics, in the modern German, instead of ancient 
Gon-Fut-Soc accent, and whether such anachronism 
can be held strictly Orthodox f or may be safely 
passed over as a mere venial lapsus linguae; Second, 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


107 


what that Jew, Moses, could have known, more than 
any troglodite bahy, how long it took to make a world, 
or how many different stages a young, suckling planet 
had to pass through before it got fully grown ; and, 
consequently, whether it was altogether in good taste 
for the Eev. and very distinguished Prof Let-himself- 
out, to lug in a Hebrew text at the head of that mas- 
terly essay of his. On the Anatomy and Physical De- 
velopement of Incipient Nebuto .P If so, or if not so, 
sit down and write an exposition, corollary or refutation 
twice as long as both, in plain, simple Greek, that “he 
who runs may read/' 

^ Wednesday. Mount the tallest kind of ‘‘Dignity’^ 
stilts, look ineffably condescending, and go about to re- 
lieve consumptives by a homily on Intemperance, 
nakedness and starvation, by a tract on Profane Swear- 
ing, or the Sin of Piracy — always remembering to mus- 
ter in full platoon, to administer benevolence “ like a 
strait-jacket," where perverse ingrates object to being 
shown up, like some two-headed calf, horned frog, or 
worse reptile, in a glass case. 

Thursday. Give Dignity its proper lustration 
after this sullying contact with the profane vulgar," 
not forgetting its proper ovation. Air it at a learned 
Lecture on '' Cause of the Abstract Superiority of a 
Boorioboola-Gha Savage Soul, to that of an Aboriginal 
Savage, or Savage Celt ; " proceed to '' Lie-see-um," 
and discuss the relative value of, and nice casuistical 
distinction between. The Rights of Woman and WO- 
MAN'S EIGHTS. [N. B. Decision in both cases, — - 
“ One that makes most noise pays hestT^ 


108 


FAMILY PAPEBS AND 


Feiday. Hold a special day of fasting and prayer, 
repent of everybody's sins, that are sinners, inform the 
Lord how much we're doing for them, and how little 
they're doing for themselves ] tell him how they all 
behave, especially those naughty rebels that ^ jaw 
BACK " and LAUGH AT US by turns, but won't give up 
when we offer to take possession, though they know 
very well the ‘‘ meeh’’ are promised to inherit the 
EARTH !*" That's US," and we want it, and mean to 
have it ! Ask Him if this is the way he keeps his 
promises, and if he expects us to exterminate these in- 
cumbents ourselves — with our sword and our bow, 

'' by hook and by crook,"— as we did the usurping cop- 
per-skin rascals found here ; or wants every man, wo- 
man and child of us, to take Samson's weapon, go 
forth, and “smite the Philistines, hip and thigh?" 
The last way suits us best, because the other's too 
“ slow " for these days, and we can't afford to wait. 
Top off with, “ God, I thank thee that I am not as 
other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even sin- 
ners, like these publicans." 

Saturday. Practice awhile on “ A1 Sirat's Arch," 
see that Dignity has on the whole been preserved in- 
tact through the week ; and lay in a fresh supply of 
oil to sanctimo7ie2/-ize with on the morrow, unless some 
rural church, or seaside chapel lies clearly in the path 
of “ duty” in wliich case, a few drops less of that oil of 
sanctimony will suffice." 

Crabtree Ap Crab', \st Lidor. 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


109 


PRETENTIOUS, BUT “SPOTTED.” 

Impeomptit on a Hotels not more than a thousand miles from Em- 
pire State Gapitol^ where a lady^ dieting on “ two cups of tea^ 
one glass of milk^ and two crachers per diemf was charged 50 
cents a day in advance of specified prices “on account of the 
high peioes of peovisions.” 

Some very nice men have taken a stand, 

To take the last fij) ” youVe got in your hand \ 
TheyVe porters enough on errands to run — 

(They look very cross, excepting just owe.) 

They’ve rooms, too, I’m told, oh, many a score. 

And they’U promise you one, and take you next floor ; 
Where, what with the cars, the noise and the smoke. 
Don’t mention the sleep,” — ’tis a very hard joke ! 

They’ve a gentleman, too ! — too good for the place, 
And the weary all bless hie kindly young face ; 

He’s light to the eyes of the feeble and old. 

And worth to the Firm his whole weight in gold. 

They’ve one china howl, and that’s very grand 
But Peovisions ” are 'High, as you understand ; 
And the card’s hanging up, but you’d better inquire, 
For you’ll find to your cost, the price isn't there ! 

Lady Lackland, 2d Lictor. 


l^th September 


110 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


THE HALF-BREED’S LECTURE TO PALEFACE 
YOUNG LADIES. 

Text — A woman is not a reasoning anirml. 

Of course she isn't, for she hasn't even found out 
that MAN is, yet ! Says all Ms reasoning powers never 
did, and never will, help him to the knowledge that 
nine-tenths of all the beauty, grace," and all that sort 
of thing, that men go into ecstatics over, when they 
“ fall in love with a lady's laced apron," might go on 
masquerading undetected from now till the day of judg- 
ment, in some poor school-ma'am, common seamstress, 
or other of society's workers. 

More than that, she says he evidently isn't capable 
of putting this and that together, and tracing up the 
connection between cause and effect, till he finds out 
what has made the Houri or Peri he won leave off her 
music and blandishments, and turn into a big-fisted, 
red-faced old woman, or pale, haggard piece of anatomy, 
in such an incredibly short time ! Has rather an abid- 
ing conviction, though, that it must be want of proper 
exercise in getting up his linen and choice viands ar- 
tistically ; and thereupon falls — for if an idea once does 
get into the creature's brain, it's sure to run wdld and 
cut up some ridiculous antic ; and it don't take much 
logic to get up a homily — to talking most heautifnlly 
about our valuable women, our high-hearted, pure- 
minded Christian Women f who ‘^so nobly sustain 
themselves and others," when either to the manner 
born, or transmuted by Juno's frown from Life's Orna^ 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


Ill 


mentals to its Usefuls.*'’^ And verily, an old cabbage- 
head might weep tears of admiration and awe, as he 
solemnly warns all delicate feminity, as it values its 
chance of a husband, to cultivate the acquaintance of 
Dr. Scrubbing>-brush, practise the graces with Madame 
Broom-and-duster, and bow down, unremittingly, at 
the shrine of »St. Cuisiniere, if it ever expects to be 
admired, or hopes to be loved by ^ the really sensible, 
reflecting men, worth catching^ '' — meaning, of course, 
himself and others of his ilk in mental and moral calibre ; 
and just as if anybody ever could remember the time 
when, place where, or circle in which, the really worth 
catching showed themselves any less disposed than 

the mere brainless fop or dullard, worth nobody’s 
catching, to do all homage to the most pretentious ton, 
and fairest face, in richest parure, present ! 

But doa^t be alarmed, young ladies. — It's only the 
same old fogy, curtain lecture extra, that" s been going 
the rounds ever since I was big enough to leave the 
Pale-face College, go on trail and carry my own toma- 
hawk, newly resurrected and revamped, whenever some 
Benedick Philosopher wants to advertise the public that 
his metamorphosed isn^t administering to his creature 
comforts quite as well as might be desired ; and ex- 
pected, considering that he married a lady, perhaps, on 
the same principle that the old Scotch curmudgeon did 
bis dead mother's maid, namely, to save the wages of 
a housekeeper, the tax on a servant, and have him^c^ 
and premises well looked after." And considering, too, 

^ The giving of riches, was, it will be remembered, one of Juno’s pre. 
rogatives. 


112 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


tliat he wants to be kept in proper frame, in tolo, for 
gratifying his taste for the beautiful economically, by 
gazing (respectfully, of course) at the pretty faces of 
other men's wives, or charming daughters ; whose 
mothers (unreasoning animals that they are) have some- 
how discovered that if they want their daughters to 
pass, they must keep them presentable, even if they 
have to do the digging ” themselves : — because they 
know the grasp of Dr. Scrubbing-brush, and worship of 
St, Cuisine, add more to the size and color, than grace, 
or symmetry of a fair hand and form ; and that some- 
thing like a huge chunk of brawn, with claws like a 
boiled lobster, don’t emit exactly the right light to show 
off diamonds and turquoise to good advantage, any more 
than a blister at one end of the finger and a callous at 
the other, give the most exquisite touch on the harp or 
piano. 

For the rest, girls, it's all humbug, every syllable, 
the really sensible and reflecting " (and you know it's 
them I mean, if any such there be) don't believe a word 
of it themselves ; though it isn't likely they'll own up 
after repeating it so many times, looking all the while, 
for all the world, just like Paddy's owl that kept up 
such a divil of a thinking.^* No, not the first one of 
them, even after making, with the late Mrs. First's 
silent consent, selection of another help-meet (meet for 
her son) in place of the present cook-meat. 

But just see when one of them does have the felicity 
to suffer one of those “ afilictive dispensations " that 
men half the time bring on themselves, and lay to 
Providence, if our Mr. Sensible Keflecting treats his 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


113 


own rhetoric and pathos practically with a particle 
more respect than I do ? '' Not a hit of it” Does he 

indulge a young son very young” he must he, to do 
the like) in the childish folly of clinging to some parlor 
gem, now set in Humanity's Workshop ? “ Not he ! '’ 

Docs he even go right off and take to himself one of his 
old admirations, those noble, accomplished, Christian 
women, — the only fitting life-time companions of the 
man of thought and of intellect ? 

P-e-r-h-a-p-s, if Juno has smiled at last, for suc- 
cess atones for all ; otherwise, Mr. Fop and Mr. Dolt 
mayfly away with all the 'Waluahle," ‘^gifted" wo- 
men in the world for all him. He goes' and marries 
himself to the wealthy and fashionable " Mrs. A., — or, 
as he can so much better afford such a luxury than his 
son, leads to the Hymeneal altar the beautiful and 
accomplished Miss B., daughter of the late eminent 
Counsellor C.," or, the fair and fascinating Miss D., 
niece of the distinguished Senator E." That's just what 
he does, as nearly as he possibly can, ninety-nine times 
out of a hundred ; and if any little Miss of fifteen here 
hasn't found it out well enough before this without my 
telling, she must have kept her pretty eyes shut longer 
than most kittens, and made precious little use of them 
since. 

However, if she does find out at last that she's some- 
thing more and better than a mere parloi toy, and is 
unselfish and truehearted, humane and affectionate 
enough to wish to help her poor, weary mother, why 
then, God bless and help you, child, go and do it; but 
don't swallow any more of that “oily gammon" about 


114 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


its helping you to a husband, if it does come from Ar^ 
canum and Sanctorum. And before any of you sell 
yourselves, life and limb,'' body and soul," to buy 
one of those expensive articles, just listen to what Dr. 
Dixon says here, ss. : 

“ A mother with a family of six or twelve children is the veriest 
slave on the earth, and from day to day, for twenty or thirty 
years, her energies are overtaxed till she has no vitality for the 
daughter, nor brains for the son ; it is all consumed in toil, and 
watching, and anxiety. A race of men will never be born in 
America till this load of care and slavish toil is removed from 
the mothers who rear the race ; the slave and the brute in gesta- 
tion have more care and attention than our Northern mothers I ” 

Well now, that's just as true as tbe Koran, and a 
great deal truer than balf tbe preaching you bear ; 
though why tbe man should have made so much ado 
about it, their faces not being black, I'm sure I can't 
conceive ; but if you still mean to risk taking husbands, 
as I dare say you do, the .grand secret of catching them 
— they being evidently the very choice game that's to 
be caught — lies in three words, feed^ flatter, and flirt, 
but above all things, feed. 

Widows understand this much better than you ; 
they know that the road to men's hearts lies straight 
through the stomach, and lacking means or establish- 
ments of their own in which to feast and pet them, are 
a committee of the whole, in the way of putting them 
in the way of stuffing dainties down their throats, while 
they warble round and weave the blarney web securely. 
The reason, undoubtedly, why the philosophizing Mr 
Samuel Weller, senior, found ^^One widder, e-kill," a? 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


115 


he believed, to about thirty or’nary women in pint of 
cornin' round a man ; " but don't be discouraged so long 
as you've a mother to dine," a father to “ wine," a 
brother to “ cigar," and a cousin to oyster supper" 
and ‘^ice cream" them ; you're safe enough, never fear, 
all you've got to do is to flatter and flirt. 

This, of course, implies the aid of dress, in its most 
elegant and becoming — no. I'll take that back, for 
“ the beauty of the fitness of things " is indispensable to 
elegance, taste," and propriety," to the becoming, 
and neither is essential here, the acts, pitted against the 
critiques of the carping old cynics, (and would be thought 
highly moral and refined observers,) themselves being 
witness ; so I shall merely say, in its most fashionable 
and expensive style." Do this, and the prize is yours, 
despite aU the “old saws," ex cathedra, and lay preach- 
ments, prosy, story-telling moralists, and moralizing 
bores, in existence ; for with his Alpha and Omega, 
the beginning, middle, and end of all his thoughts and 
aspirations all before him, how can mortal man fail to 
kneel to Sylph, whose surroundings fascinate his eye, 
whose genial sprites fill his mouth with all good things ? 

Impossible ! And when you've got your game (or 
he's got you) safely bagged, it won't be long, I'm think- 
ing, before you'll begin to believe, that that Dr. D. 
really did have some “ reasoning powers," or at least 
perceptions, with aU his crochets. 

Crabtree Ap Crab', Lictor. 


116 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


OUT WEST. 

I FEEL a fresher breath npon my cheek, 

A truer, nobler pulse within my heart : 

The ready arm outstretched to guide the weak. 

Is better than the hollow gloss of art. ' 

UiGHT cannot shut thee out, thou gallant West ! 

This breath is of a freer world a part ; 

And bow who will, at sordid shrine and test. 

Give me thy open hand, thy honest heart. 

Fate of a stormy land is on thee laid, 

Hopes of a world beneath thy mighty arch ; 
Earth’s crowning ‘‘bow of promise” thou art made, 
1 feel the tread of Empire on its march ! 


THOSE HUPTIALS. 

Hme — hme — hmeh ! What ’5 all this smudge. Crab ? 

Roasting a big Guinea to baste a live Native, ma'ams 
What for ? 

“ Wedding of High Hindoo Caste, and Low Gold Coast Fetish.” 
Wake, Lady Lack — must have an epithalamium. 

HINDOO WOOL, OR GREELEY’S “FETISH.” 

Some people would n’t choose any wool in their toast. 
Others modestly -claim to rule the whole roast— 
Perhaps they ’ll succeed on the Down-Eastern coast. 
Though folks that scold loudest don’t always do 
most — 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


117 


•Philosopher too ’s a little hit pettish, 

And sneers, in this wise, at National Fetish 

“Constitution, you see, ’s a very Hard word. 

The same as Old Ironsides, of which you have heard.” 


‘‘ There ’s all Christendom's first ! Hal names it and 
^ swears 

It’ s ^ second to rifles for settling affairs’ — 

In All-Saintdom’s fleld, in fact, it sows tares ; 

But it ’s out of my line, this saying of prayers ; 

My mouth, like the Times, is n’t very much mealy 
dirty for that. Philosopher Greeley !” 

“But this Constitution’s a very hard word, 

And it never was Soft, that ever I heard.” 


Many idols, you hint, have very fine towers. 
Though Fetish do n’t always, in African bowers — 
old parchment roll sufl&ces for ours !” 

If so very much bent on testing its powers. 
Constitution, you ’ll find, is still a Hard word : 
Then Union comes next, that ’s ^Fetish" the Third. 

“And those ^Fetish' of ours, the more you deride, 

The firmer, the truer, we cling to their side.” 


How much that is false, with some that is true. 

You have mixed up in this, as most nice traitors do. 
We thank you, however, for dropping the clue — 
We bow to that Fetish,” and do n’t bow to you. 
As your mission ’s to rule, ours not to obey, 
Constitutional “ Fetish” stands in the way. 

“And though it may be rather hard to digest. 

We think, of the two, we could spare you the best.” 


Grand college for cursing you’ve got up, we know, 
To mould and enlighten our faces of Dough ; 


118 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


And the beam in the eye” you cultivate well — 
Like Jack’s famous ‘^Bean,” all its branches do 
swell. 

And perhaps you expect that lumber to sell ; 

But of nutynegs and hams we’ve often heard tell. 


“And there’s timber elsewhere as good as your best, 

We’ve some in that small place, Down South and Out West.” 


But, man of much type, do you think it quite wise 
The gods of a nation to flout in their eyes ? 

Grant that Fetish” we have ! our idols they are ; 
(How much, in our Third, would you take for your 
share ?) 

Hot the least will we trust to ‘‘higher law” care, 
And woe to the hand that imperils a hair ! 

“ Constitution and all, the more you deride. 

The firmer, the truer, we cling to their side.” 


Some rascally wreckers, in quarters, we’re told 
Are ducking and diving to scuttle the hold 
Of that gallant State-ship w^ all loved of old ! 
We think they will catch, 0, a very had cold: 
With Douglas on hand, Castle Dang’rous within. 
They had better leave oS before they begin ! 

“All honor to Douglas, the champion bold. 

The helm of that ship he is worthy to hold.” 


Lordly Caste, kiss your bride ! That sweet Fetish 
prize 

{The WOOL that is 'pulled over other folks’ eyes) 

In a “ loWj rakish craft” for ballast now lies 

From Saintdom to Scoffing the ferryboat plies 
On that Pagan-ngged “ punk” you carry high sail— 
We 11 trust the Old Ironsides to weather the gale ' 


bridal barge you carry black sail ■ 
Well, Flag of a Pii-ate will answer to trail !” ’ 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


119 


The star^ and the stripes we strike to it never — 
The Flag of old Tirtie^ our FLAG-sHip/or ever ! 

III., March, 1856. 


IMPROVISm INSTITUTIONS. I 

“ Ahem ! says our nomadic, half-breed cousin, draw- 
ing his lids solemnly down, and putting the quiet 
twinkle away back in his eye, as if fun and pun were to 
be carefully cacMed as a redskin^s stores ; ^^Ahem,” says 
he, incontinently smitten, on hearing that The Widow 
Bedott and “Mrs. Partington" were both out, with 
the ambitious design of going it strong, which means 
long, on a splendid conglomerate of their most superb 
style, mixed in with a little Choctaw Elemjayesse of his 
own ; — “ Ahem !" says he, — and thaPs the third time 
— “ what a very improvisin expectoration this oncom- 
monly faremh. invention called Travellin is ! Couldn't 
a ben more so, if got up expressively for that numerous 
class of gifted innerce?i^ssuals, with great nateral 
powers for tempestiatin in teapots, conj'^^^icatin deca- 
logues, and exasperatin and gesticulatin round con- 
siderable on slantendikiler teetotums. 

Mephisto-physical oracilers, that alters incubates in 
the same persuasion, or percolates about in caterwaulin 
stacks of gutteral bricks and mortar, is apt to get their 
idees walled in arter a while, and grow up narrer- 
minded. Only suppose, ma'am, you’d never had a 
chance to pick up any participles of sacrMotin prag- 
matics, except such poor dimes’ worth of inflamation as 


120 


FAMILY PAPEES AND 


retentive intellectibles of angilar conceptions miglii 
subterrack from tbe time-moldered, evergreen dittoes of 
those demonsteratin electurors, who wantonly go about, 
kindly defamatin and expositin on eeny most every 
branch of useless knollidge, in which their hearers is 
pretty well constipated ! Why, you might ha" gone on 
to the last day of your death in the stringent hypothe- 
nuse, that uppertennys is mostly those fortinit individ- 
gels (born in garrets, cellars, and other elevated, sub- 
terraneous persitions) who inherit uncounted sums of 
most incredilous amount, besides pedlars" packs and 
picklocks, caJbiage, and such like heirlooms, as in a 
manner necessiates them to obliviate lapstones, and 
worse lapses, by painting false keys argent, bootjacks 
and other laryes rampageant, on carriages ; and build- 
ing imnaense palacials, to show off unmitigated museums 
of all sorts of vallyables that don"t belong to them, only 
that the proper owners don't know where the stuff's 
gone to, and there’s so much of it, that the Law’s 
delicate, puny fingers can’t get hold on’t^ any how. 

‘ Knaves and fools ! ’ — Laud o’ massy ! I didn’t 
say no such thing— it’s only the incidental concatecate- 
nation of the attractive principle of exaggravitation. 
Dear, .dear, — ^how the onnateral resonance of that un- 
sarcumcised vernacyler has upset the artistic lunarity of 
my idees, into a perfick delirimum tremenjus ! Never 
collapse again into such uncivilized statistics — it’s im- 
perous and onchristian, too ; for them that’s got much 
is promised to have a great deal, and you oughtent to 
expect contrariwise. The Law is too highly ‘ rectified ’ 
and refrigerate to apply levelling terms incendiously. 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


121 


It exemplifies yon to be more discriminate, and respect 
dignities inordinately — sucb epithets is labellous ! 

But if it hadn^t ben for your lateral excavation 
through the straigJiti^Qdi putrifactions, orful rostrum 
doses, percussin panicceas, crustyaceous panoramas, and 
flunkyatin scenes of these triangular, exascerbatin 
States, you never would a known, for certain, that the 
‘ Aristocracy ' of this enlightened Demoniocracy is that 
^privileged class " which the other misforchinit, down- 
trodden orders call ^ Helps.' 

^ Sarvants — SAKYANTS ! ! ' The Lord bless and 
deliver your confustyated, silly old soul — where did you 
ever git such romantics into your poor decomposed 
brain ? Come right out of it now, if you don't want to 
be sent straight off to the Lunatic ^ Lie-see- em* ^ Sar- 
vants ' indeed ! Why, I tell you, ma'am, their hands 
is entirely too good to put into most kinds of dirty, dis- 
agreeable work ; that's for you to do. The principle of 
their avercations is, to fanfaronade round, and enter- 
tain company, espionage and exasperate about ‘ some,' 
suspect conspiracies against their vestered rights and 
dignities, put down rebellions, and accept handsum 
selleries for teachin their unhappy tribitaries, the inde- 
pendent bone and sinners of these great rural latitudi- 
naries, how to demean themselves respectiously to the . 
young ladies and gentlemen, of all sectses and ages, 
who condescend to stay and look on, slatterate round, 
or exhalate and amuse themselves, while they has to 
take hold and do the drudgery. 

Yes, it's quite collateral, ma'am, that you should 
feel rather emulous of such easy sinecurations ; but 


122 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


don't be too envidious, if you do have to stand bach 
and wait till they've done with your glass, combs, and 
brushes ; the nobility isn't altogether exempt from 
fugaceous dispensations, any more'n their poor de- 
pressed subjicks. And if the course of human rotatories 
ever should reduce them to your present oncomfortable 
rank, don't bear malice, and go to setting your foot on 
their necks, the very first minit you get a leetle grain 
the upper hand. It isn't for the ‘ King of France,' you 
know, to pay back ^insults to the Duke of Orleans ; ' so 
just desiderate that your dignity's able to stand afoot, 
and go alone without wetnursing. And don't go to put- 
ting on airs to ex-ton-ni^h. the aborigines, as if some on- 
expected concussitatin honer had toppled clean over the 
hypothecate equallibrium of that factious hallucium, 
which the unlarned call brain. People that comes, like 
you, of ^ resjpectahle ' petrifactions, ever since the most 
remote ages of their geological progeny, has no occasion 
to act as if they hadn't been round some before, and 
couldn't bear their onmerited promotion, with the least 
kind of Christian hilarity and fortuitous resignation. 
Do try to excogitate a little more on your own quies- 
cent, internal lauderations ; and prognosticate a geni- 
flexin world, that it needn't exhilerate and indemnify 
itself quite off its axis on your account, by no mannei 
of means. 

What's that ? ^ Thought Uncle Sam’s share was 

bound to fiare up and dephlogisticatOj any hour ! ' 
Christifer Kerlumbus ! did you ever ? Cousin 
S-a-m J-o-n-a-t-h-i-n g-w-i-n-e to ex-plode, col-lapse, 
and bust his bile-er 1 ^Wal, I never ! ! You don’t say so ! 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


123 


Seen eyer so many lyin low, absquatulating in 
dark corners, driving in wedges, sluicin crevices, horeing 
in magazines, luciferin gun-cottons, and chasing after 
^odirous^ luminosities, hoping to pick up something 
handsome in the ^^7^-eral muss/^ 

St. Geoege of Vernon, hear that ! Put their foot 
in it more like, or get some new kind o' Schnapps' 
cedes into them green-gourd bombshells of theirs. 
Wonder if they do raally take 'em for heads ^ and them 
zigzag, mete-a-year comics, for sure enough stars ? 
Gess all well-edicated, honest sentimentals knows pretty 
well what them orfully discomposin, jackymelantern 
phosphorals putresces from, by this time. Must be 
some badly-reformed misanthropators — ^just takes them 
consaited, whirligig, conjuratin fakir saints to be etar- 
nally falling in love with their own pro-files, bristlin up 
at their own shadders, and in a mighty flurry to cast 
the very fust stun at somebody as don't properly 'preci- 
ate their beauties. Are so wise now, they can eenemost 
take themselves in — get a little more light through 
their brazen ox-frontisbus before long, like that other 
bragin old Philischian Go-liar, if they're not after 
keepin more quiet. 

^ Sermons in stones,' very good luminaters — ^fact, 
ma'am, — regilar Hard shell though ; so if the geolo- 
gist-hammer don't come by nater, how on ahth is them 
poor distressid, half-starvlin, sinful critters, that has to 
make a livin, by riflein good texes out o' Bibles, ever to 
make them up into clothin and waddin, or stop to 
BwaUow and digest good sound doctrine ? 

to bolting ^ strong — needn't be squeani- 


124 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


isli ; spoonies enough themselves — don't want any more 
‘ spoon victuals/ " 

“ Well, that's ^ true as preachin/ and the best on't 
at that, and sartingly ^ sermons in stones ' is very fine, 
‘ provided they isn’t all horn-blend ' and felspars, and 
there's no lack of gumption to read and understand ; 
but ^ good in every thing ' — don't know so well about 
that ! " 

Where's the use, now, of standing in eend looking at 
yourself through a forty-horse magnoscope, till ye can't 
see any thing under the hull canerpy half ekill to your 
own size and perfections ; or suspect whose ugly, on- 
gainly picter it is, castin such dark spots on the sun ? 
‘ CanH say ' — suppose not — ^but if it's such a virilent 
morbid ofWery 0 Lord' Dogmatics, hope that chronic 
dis-temperance wont miasmate epidermically. 

Gess on the hull, them fabilous poetics needn't prate 
any more about their old Golden Age ; 'twant ‘ no sort 
o' shakes ' to this ere gabilous one ! Only think, now, 
there's the hloickguard interventions, quartz of aurifer- 
ous gun-fiints, “ wild cat "-o'-nine-tale Banks, High- 
gean Schnapps, Spirit-raps, and Tell-egraphic lie-n % — 
all eddy-fyin consternations ; — then there's TKAV- 
ELLIN, another Improv-isin Institution," very — 
specially to them as rather calkilates that the New 
Jerusalem 's got to light up with codfish oil, or bound 
to subside. 

Crab's Beporter, Louise Elemjay. 

P. S. — Just found out the “good" of “Deliri- 
mums." It lies in the taxiturn stage {must he awfully 


OFFICIAL documents/ 125 

mendacious not to quit lying when ifs mum for if 
that wasn^t coining on right away, don^t think this 
‘‘ misfortinit suiferer ever could survive this present 
attack ! 

L. E., Bep. 

P. S. 2nd. — Miss Betsey says, he's got to come 
out of it, and that pretty quick, too, — won't stand this 
de-5^7^-itatin, Sangareedo practice any longer — had 
enough to put up with his morbid weakness for 
^ scrouging ' more meanings into words and sentences 
than they've got the sconce to hold, or other maudlins 
to understand — wonH swallow any more such ^orful, 
quack-rostrum doses,' for all the mongrel fouls that 
ever quacked or ‘ hied ' in Bunkum — not she !" 

L. E., Bep. 


THE OLD FUSION COMMITTEE; OR, THAT 
DUEL. 

Oh ! Fusion, confusion, what infamous tricks 
That scurvy Nehraskal has headed off Styx ! 

Oh Bogus ! oh Banks ! can't some of you pray ? 
Can't somebody kill off Steve Douglas that way ? 

Horace, Billy, and all, do come to my aid. 

And see what a mess of our fusion he's made ! 

Can't youWard off, dear Hal, this rascally quiet ? 

The ruffians in Kansas don't offer to riot — 

Those NigSy too, of Cassius, just flung in our face !'' 
Says Leader to Reeder, You special had case, 


126 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


If you cannot help, what^s the use of a tool ? 

Up river called Salt, there's a very fine school/' 

“ And this Fusion's a game must he skilfully play'd, 

Or 'twill blow us all up," says Emigrant Aid. 

Yes, guns Stephen spikes, must he laid on the shelf, 
Or he'll blow us all up — atrocious old elf." 

Stale eggs didn't pay — we are heartily sick ; 

He's stumped us, and tramped us, and got our last 
trick ; 

He's trailed us, and nailed us in treason and lie. 

That State, and our seats, he has blown them sky- 
high ; 

And our brave bogus laws he's branded so plain, 

I must scratch them all out," says Senator Lane. 

Oh, Sammy and Sambo, and Emigrant Aid, 

Ho see what a mess of our bogus he's made." 

“ Well, the truth is just this — we're all in a fix ; 

Can't somebody send that Douglas o'er Styx ? 

You’ve done dirty work — we have all of us tried — 

But get out of this, or up Salt you must slide." 

That logic of his it is useless to fight — 

(Cassius’ Darkies, or wit, don't help us a mite — ) 

But my valor 's big, as a big piece of chalk ; 

In fact, you have made it the newspaper talk. 

Though chivalry 's now somewhat out of joint. 

So, on cartel I'll put a very ^ fine point,' 

And a new martyr Stephen A. Douglas I'll make, 
Provided said Stephen my challenge should take." 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


127 


“ Dear Senator Lane, wLat a hero you are, 

To think of entrapping ‘ the Douglas in lair 
Dearest Samho and Sam, how pious you were, 
Contriving such mesh, wicked ruffian to snare."' 

“ That dough face of his, we must do it up brown, 

For canonicals swore, in Silliman’s town. 

That rifles were better to put a thing through. 

Though Bibles (for wadding) might possibly do 
But the Douglas, ^ the Douglas," he could not see why 
A forger, convicted, should ask him to lie. 

When the dear ^ Brother Fred" had suited so well 
To help an impostor in cutting a swell. 

“ Loving Sambo and Sam, what spoonies you were 
To think with such bait any true man to snare ; 

Next time, we advise, that you take better care. 

When ‘ coffee and pistols for two " you require."" 

Horace, Billy, and all, do come to my aid. 

And see what a hotchpotch of crawfish we"ve made ; 
Our vamosed old Gov., he is sliding elsewhere. 

The Hards are all grinning (how Harry will swear) ; 
And Bogus and Banks how the ruffians will scoff. 

At that Duel "twas planned, but wouldn"t come off. 
Sweetest Mary of Sharps ! can't some of you pray ? 
Can't somebody kill off Bteve Douglas that way ?” 

Oh, Senator Lane, what a darling you were, 

Had you only entrapped ^ the Douglas in lair ;" 

But to hold up both hands, you blundering dunce, 

In our infamous fix — just clear out at once ! 


128 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


“ Yes, guns Stephen spikes, on the shelf must be laid, 
Or he'll blow us all up,'' says Emigrant Aid ; 

“ Something better you'll do, when next you are tried— 
Just now, dirty Lane, up the Salt you must slide.” 

If ^ guns Stephen spikes, ’on the shelf must be laid,' 

This fusion of ours is a wretched bad trade ! 

Saints, ‘three sheets in wind,' and some ‘^higher 4 than 
‘ high^ 

Might send, I should think, their commands to the 
sky." 

“No MARTYR of you could we make, if we tried. 

So Lany, my dear, you will have to subside. 

Hard parting with friends, but his reverence here 
Some Number One Schnapps, sure, wi'Il send you to 
cheer." 

“ Oh, Sambo and Sam, you're a very nice pair 
Out in Kansas to keep, good rifles to spare. 

Don't they pay very well in Salt Kiver fare ? 

Don't somebody want Miss Mary out there ? 

Go it. Sambo and Sam, you're weeding the Lane, 

Clear course you will have by the next People's Train; 
Schnapp's gospels will help you to rifle your fare, 

And to put you safe through, we Hards will be there." 

“ Don't grieve, luckless Lane — to Salt Eiver plain 
We'U send them all soon, to see you again. 

Go it. Sambo and Sam, you're doing your best ; 

When you've finished your tools we'll tend to the rest." 

Lady Lackland, 2d Lictor, 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


129 


WHO PAYS ? 

“ WhaCs ‘ Oiyoernment^ Granny 1 Why^ la^ cTiild^ don't you 
hnow f It's when several nice people gets together^ and considers 
whaVs hestfor them and their folks^ and then they goes and does it; 
and thats ‘ Goveenment,’ honey?’ 

Haven't a doubt of it, Crab, but who pays ? 

“ Uncle Sam and Brother Jonathin, ma'am." 

Yes, the regulars ; but the Humbug Bunkums, that 
elect themselves to go stir up the monkeys, get up 
bear-fights, pull the wires and keep the puppets all in 
order, — who foots their bill ? 

Why, the ^ bone and sinners,' of course. That's 
what they're good for." 

Thought so ; but always heard that ancient sorceress 
sowed her Dragon's Teeth somewhere in the Eastern 
world. Must have sprouted at the wrong end, and 
come up on this side.** 

“ Fact, ma'am. And they do say that that Hum- 
bug Bunkum, Esq., is one of her lineal descendants, by 
the very old Hydra himself" 

INio disputing that pedigree — family likeness too 
strong ! 

Understand he's laying himself out to go the big 
figure, tomfooleyizing with his sharp practice, and 
Schnappish sharpness, out here soon." 

Get himself laid out for once, I'm thinking, if he 
does. Laying himself outf is he ? Well, couldn't 
do better, set Lady Lack to help him. 

* “ They ” (demagogues) “ are the Dragon's Teeth^ witli which the soil 
of a Kepublic is every where sown.” — Fisher Ames, 

6 * 


130 


FAMILY PAPEES AND 


So conceited, she'd as soon trust her own eyes and 
ears, as his tongue and fingers, any day. Don't believe 
in ‘ Fossuming/ she don't." 

Never will, sure as I'm a living sinner. 

Betsey Tkotwood, Censor, 


SLANTENDICULARS. 

This Union, says Banks, it is welcome to ‘‘ slide 
“ We stand on that planTc** Wool and Fusiondom 
cried ; 

And, their God and their land at once to deride, 

Some Deists leaped on, pulpit rostrum to stride. 

Some sliding there'll be, people very much think — 
They're used to Banks sliding, with other folks' chink ! 

When the whole Union slides, just let us all know 
What grand times you have up Salt Eiver row." 

It's League with the devil’* — a compact with hell** 
(Sure your saintships do swear uncommonly well f 
Is't nutmegs, or high moral tickets** to sell ?) 

And you are going to annul it ! Do tell ! 

Quite sorry you're vexed with our faces of “ dough," 
But where are your honors all meaning to go ? 

Oh, you are the Pope ! Well, we'll let you all know 
When we're coming to kiss your Holiness' toe ! " 

Very savage you are on faces of dough 

You cannot stand this, and you will not live so ; 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


131 


Your right ” is to kule^"' * and you’ll “ let the South 
'know ” 

They have got to cave in, or catch it ! Oh ! oh ! 

The way we do “ catch it ” is very sublime — 

When caving begins, stand from under ” in time. 

When we' re ready to slide, we’ll let you all know ; 

If your honors won't stay, pray where will you go ? 

It’s useless to fret at our faces of dough,” 

You can’t twist them round to quite suit you, you 
know ; 

And until you are Pope, don’t hold up your toe. 

For it might march you off to Salt Kiver row. 

And when cute folks like you are caught in such 
slopes. 

Other people will think you don't know the ropes.” 

“ Quite well enough yet, North and South to divide ; 
The West, I am thinking, has both of them tied.” 

You can float on the “mote” your vision espies. 

Far down in the depths of a poor brother’s eyes ; 

And easier way never man could devise 
To “ gang his ain gate," and reach home in the skies. 
You’ve sole right, of course, to that nice patent train ; 
And we rather distrust this new “ sliding pla,ne" 

“ In fact, you do curse so remarkably well. 

We fancy, at times, that some brimstone we smell.” 


* “ The freemen of the North have a eight to rule the country I **— 

Bajstks, in Rq>. Convention for the Northern United States.'** 


132 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


Would be masters of ours — sole lights of the world— 
Bitter taunts you have long most recklessly hurled, 

Till in sorrow and scorn, man's proud lip is curled — 
Hadn't that blazon, to rule, much better be furled ? 
The West and the South hardly yet you'll divide — 
That Union the Father of Waters has tied. 

“ You may rabidly snap at faces of dough, 

But can't bite them all, as you'd like to, you know." 

You've maddened the many," but Union's sad knell 
Mightn't prove, after all, such a very fine sell ; " 

You really think it good music ? Do tell ! 

We think that some mounte-banks toll their own bell ; 
But Schnapps put low spirits " in very fine fiow. 
Though rather Yew-tonic for some tastes, you know. 

If your honors wiU quit, say, where wiU you go ? 

Oh yes ! I remember, up old Salt, you know." 

When Union's the music, we never step slow — 

Your honors won’t march ^ WeU, your honors can go ; 
When we’re ready to “ slide ” we'll let you all know, — 
Just now you can shine on the Salt Eiver row ! 

Your barque is well Manned, and you'll soon learn the 
“ ropes " 

Well enough to get in, at end of your slopes." 

I wonder do Schnapps ever make a man swell ; 

Is't up Kiver Salt where they keep people well ? " 

Oh ! the Union's not past, its days are not done — 

In quarter-deck feuds we spar it like fun ; " 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


133 


But at old ship of state point one single gun, 

Ev'ry plank on its deck we man it as one ! 

The hour of its danger is hour of its pride, 

For the people^s high heart is strong, true, and #Wed. 

And Humanity’s voice rings out from its side. 

Oh! the Union must stand — the Traitors may 
^ filide 

When the people all ^ slide,' just let us all know 
How much we outshine you, on Salt River row ! " 

Just now, you might strike Constitution, we fear. 

So Union’s the word — rwe, the people, are here," 
Lady Lackland, 2d Lictor, 


THE LATEST OUTRAGE YET. 

We have it, says an eye-witness, upon the very best 
authority, that a peaceable, law-abiding citizen — one of 
those comfortable, nothing-so-easy philosophers, who 
bear another’s woes with such sublimity, that all the 
world exclaims, ^ what magnanimity 1 ’ ” — was lately 
talking good,” and holding forth condescendingly and 
commonsensically, to that legitimized butt of all com- 
pos-men tis-dom, a victimized, struggling author. 

How, this particular one, be it understood, had — ■ 
after once fairly reaching shore, under circumstances 
said to have made it an achievement worthy to he 



134 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


lessly caught, and flung back into the sea of oblivion — ' 
shouts of victory ringing in one ear, taunts of failure 
hissed into the other — by the very humane, especial, 
and disinterested friends, who, after sufficiently testing 
the bantling's ability to survive the enforced literary 
felo-de-se of sales by author, fancied, perhaps, that it 
would do all the better, if parental encumbrance could 
only be got out of the way altogether ; but somehow, 
the more they tried, just so much the more it 
couldn't. There was no earthly excuse for this indomi- 
table perversity ; the world itself was just as obliging 
as need be, and could, as the tenacious le trop well 
knew, muster sufficient fortitude, any time, to draw out 
its pocket-handkerchief, say Ali^ indeed I and resign 
itself to the loss with most exemplary composure ; but 
no, the world might put up its cambric, or cry its eyes 
out, if it liked, from pure vexation, — it was no go. 

Well, the world does put up with a good deal in 
the long run, but there are some imposings on good 
nature which it can't stand — some points beyond which 
human endurance will not go ; and even our placid, 
imperturbable, unoffending citizen felt himself in duty 
bound to remonstrate. So he fell, of course, to dis- 
coursing very sapiently, abstractly, and originally, on 
the idle folly of any hut a very distinguished author^ s 
ever having recourse to the pen^ especially if it was 
that or nothing, in a world like this, so teeming with 
books and swarming with literateurs. 

Talking away he was, in calm, unsuspecting inno- 
cence, only a little wondering — as even impassability 
sometimes will — why such impressive rhetoric didn't 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


135 


make that particular supernumeTaire own right up 
what unaccountable “ sillies some of the best judges 
the country has, or has had for years, were, in thinking 
productions which kept them waking until finished, no 
matter at what hour, ever worth reading at all ; when 
what does this She- Wolf of Literature (for, of course, it 
could he no less) do^ but «mj9iously turn and stand at 
bay — vow, that instead of quietly submitting to he 
legally murdered by inches, for the benefit of her execu- 
tioners, she wouldn^t die — not she — a minute before her 
time, to please anybody ! No, not even for the honor 
of a newspaper monument, in the biggest and blackest 
of letters, to ^ the most remarkable woman of the age ; ' 
as every woman inevitably is, the moment her remarka- 
bilities — evolved in the crucible of wrong and starvation 
— can be made to enrich anybody but her and hers.'' 

And as if that wasn't enough to horrify the un- 
terrified " even, she must coolly aver that she had 
herself been on the planet called earth ever since she 
could remember — had as many eyes and ears as most 
folks, and, if she hadn't, had heard that same story, to 
the best of her knowledge and belief, at least three 
thousand times ; and seeing that Literary effort wasn't, 
after all, such a very unprecedented and unheard-of 
atrocity, didn't know but she had just as good a right 
to ‘^come in" as any of the balance. Would like to 
know, though, how many of the very distinguished " 
ever got to be so very distinguished before Mrs. Grundy, 
and all the rest of mankind,” ever had any chance, to 
speak of, to see whether they ever could be distin- 
guished ? As for their suffrages, now that they were 


136 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


distinguislied,” they didn’t count — it was so easy, as 
all the world knew, to pull the wool over the eyes of 
the very first grade ; and for grades number two, three, 
and so along down, they’d let any fiat pass. If Mr. 
Public, and other outsiders, with their eye-teeth cut, 
didn’t keep entirely too sharp a look-out to be hum- 
bugged after that fashion, they’d never turn up their 
noses at ail — the new competitors might think it 
jealousy. Still, her cub might be done to death ” by 
foul means, but the coroner’s inquest would come, for 
the ‘ varmint ’ had been seen “ alive and kicking ! ” 

Now, we solemnly ask, has it come to this ? Are 
well to do ” Largeland Lieges to be insolently bearded 
this way, without fear or favor, by their own rightful 
Lackland vassals ? Verily, we have fallen upon evil 
times ; and we do humbly submit — no, we don’t — ^we 
do stoutly protest, that if Bunkum don’t march Bunker 
Hill right off to take that audacious she wolf^^ into 
custody, we don’t see what that Institution’s good for ! 
Can’t a quiet, law-abiding citizen fiourishing respect- 
ably ” under his own “ vine and fig-tree,"’ be oracular, 
trite, and commonplace, or vampirish, as he pleases, 
we should like to know, without being pounced upon 
and Kansasized in this ferocious way ? Can the whole 
annals of Border Kuffianism exhibit such another 
wanton, unprovoked outrage on aU free speech, good 
morals, exclusive privilege, and sensible conduct, as 
the fiendish onslaught it has been our painful duty to 
record ? Is Freedom extinct — our Traditional Liberty 
nowhere ? 

We sincerely hope, for the honor of humanity, and 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


137 


‘^the glories of Seventy-six/' that no United States 
Senator stood by, on that disgraceful occasion, with his 
hands in his pockets. 

Crabtree ap Crab, 1st Lictor. 


DEFINmC THEIR POSITIONS. 

Down East, in a fury, “ declares he will ride 
Rough-shod o'er the Union, or make it all slide 
He's got all the wisdom, he's got all the grace. 

His vassals no right to annul the ukase ; 

And he brandishes Schnapps in valiant sword arm — 
‘Poor fellow, I fear he will do himself harm. 

Ho, a steeple-chsi^Q race, and bottle of gin ! 

Well, pick up the jockey, and carry him in. 

This East, to be sure, is a very fast man. 

Spout higher-fsihitm no Emperor can. 

Creation must now on its marrow-bones fall. 

Or vamose the ranche ! Sure he's talking quite ^ taU f 
But if left to stray off, now he's after the ^ tin,' 

Would drift to destruction, like fish without fin." 

He only intends aU creation to win. 

Though sharp enough nearly to take himself in. 

But Out West," says the South, like me, you must 
grieve 

At such frantic pranks." Yes, and laugh in my 
sleeve ; 


138 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


For Down East {^pitching, and Wows hell pitch in— • 
The brass he has got, and we shall cede ^ the tin ; * 

He lays down the law, like an old Tartar Khan — 
Bajazet and he were a very nice span/' 

Shall we let him drift off, poor fish without fin, 

Or do him up brown, and make him stay in ? 

Down East, to be sure, is a non- compos man, 

Though he looks very like an old charlatan ; 

Such shrieking for Freedom, such puffing of gin, 

Such blackleg and sharping, to Crocket were ‘ sin ; * 
But he's vaporish quite — awful yarns he does spin — 
Sure a guardian he needs, to keep him safe in." 

Poor ranting Down East, he is crazed with his din, 

W e'U pick him right up, and carry him in. 

Down East, to be sure, is a wrong-headed man. 
Whose zeal hath discretion a little outran. 

'Twas a wild steeple-chase, that race against time — 
'Twill bring him up soon, just ‘ one step from suh* 
lime ; ' 

But to turn him adrift just now would be sin. 

So we'll diet him well, and let him stay in." 

When he spreads himself out he looks rather thin** 
We'll pick him up kindly, and carry him in. 

Yes, we must take care of this very ^ sick man,' 

Who was thinking to get in all the world's van." 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


139 


So West and Down South, to their Sharp, Schnappish 
friend, 

A cordial permit, ‘‘ with compliments, send. 

In Union rotunda he stiU may abide, 

But can't have the room for a very grand ^ slide ! * " 

Poor misinformed East, he has spread himself thin ; 
We'll Post him up better, and fasten him in. 

Lady Lackland, 2d Lictor. 

Oct . ’56. 


UNCROWNED. 

Dear me, Mr. Respectable Prosaics, you donH say 
80 ! exclaims that old fogy celebrity. Author's Vanity, 
how very precocious ! Don't believe I could have found 
out all that very much before I was five years old my- 
self — am morally certain I haven't known it — just as 
well as if every Supercilia in the land had made a 
special pilgrimage to inform me — only ever since I 
could remember. 

Where did you ever get such uncommon insight 
into the common workings of human nature ? Must 
have been in rapporte with some metaphysic stetho- 
scope, I think — shouldn't wonder if your olfactories got 
keen enough, after a while, to teU ^^a rose" from a 
poppy, if 'twas properly labelled. Have strong hopes 
that if you only go on improving, you'll he able to 
appreciate wit (if you can't originate any) some day, 
when you know precisely what distinguished source it 


140 


FAMILY PAPEBS AND 


comes from ! But how very kind and magnanimous of 
you to come and enlighten me ; and what a blessed 
thing, you were always on hand to impress on poor 
know-nothink J oe how hard it was to get a living. 
Didn’t anybody tell him that he found that out him- 
self !” Come, come, Charhe Dickens, none of your 
gammon here — you just shut up now — awfully given to 
Munchausening, I fear — must Jcnow that nobody hut 
that ubiquitous Omniscient, Authorless Conceit, 
ever did find out anything clearly ; hut my dear Clair- 
voyant Moniteur, what > enchanting condescension ! 
It"s really quite superb, the way you do wear that regal 
crown of OVEKWEENING. 

Always understood before that I was acknowledged 
head of that illustrious House — ^wouldn't give a breath 
of Bunkum, cat^s starvation, or “ corner of rotunda,'" 
for all my kingship, now that your brilliant genius for 
developing the undeveloped resources of my specialty is 
extant. But my specialty — mine ? Not so sure — 
have some doubt whether the whole and sole" of 
Vanity’s fee simple ever was mine de jure — strange 
misgivings that I’m little better than a poor, pitiful 
scapegoat of a “ Pretender," after all. Am I, I, Lord 
Paramount, or am I not ? Half suspect I'm only a 
cunningly devised hieroglyph. Brain-figment, or Mytho- 
logic Abstraction, got up and set up by magic sleight 
of some ancient quizzes, in parts unknown, for Modern 
Hoaxees and Second Fiddles to take their cue from, 
and swear by— may he, Fossil remains of Modest 
Merit, unearthed by Mr. Layard, or Major Bruce, 
somewhere on that far-off Plain of Shinar ! " 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


141 


^ 6Sj that rniist ho it — won^t somehody galvanizo 
ni6 out of suspended animation ? Thank you — ah, I 
see, just as I thought — name, crown, prestige, identity, 
all gone not fit to hold a candle,’’ even, to the real 
heir assumptive, your Gracious Highness Prince of 
Overweening ! Don’t need to sit under your platitudes, 
or hear you. blackguard in Billingsgate more than once 
to be convinced of that, and when it comes to vixen- 
izing in the newspapers, wonH you shine ? 

Sorry to have usurped your rightful honors and pre- 
rogatives so long ; but here, Authorless Conceit, you 
can take my hat, and all insignia to boot — I'm off to 
Coventry. 

Censoria Lictoria. 

St . Louis ., Dec . ’56. 


FISHERS OF MEN. 

Earth’s Fishers are out in all waters to-day. 

They are lengthening their lines, and strength’ning 
their poles ; 

In the forest’s dim aisles, the city’s thronged way. 

They are fishing this day, and fishing for souls. 

Never idle are ye, ye Fishers of Men,” 

For your lines span the land, your nets the broad 
sea ; 

On mountain, on moor, in the low noisome fen. 

With line, bait, and barb, very busy are ye. 


142 


FAMILY PAPERS. 


Cunning anglers ye are, ye fishers of men,” 

In the wellsprings of life, the foul tide of sin, 

In the palace's proud hall, the pestilence's den, 

In the Temple of God — the Temple of Gin ' 

And Fishers of Men, ye are taking this day 
The noble and base, the bond and the free ; 

The hero's proud laurel, the poet's green bay — 

Eich trophies, oh Fisher, for mammon or me ! 

The ransomed I've “ bought '' — dare ye cast them 
away ? 

The treasures ye win, do ye garner them well ? 

Some net, Fishernian, ye are filling this day, 

Do ye gather for Heaven, or garner for hell ? 

For ye gather them in, ye gather them in,” 

The spoils of the earth, and the gems of the sea ; 
And the pearl of the soul is the wealth that ye win — 
Oh 1 Fishers of Men, are ye winning for me ? 

L. L. 

St. Louis., 18.56. 


CHAKITY AND INGKATITUDE. 

A LAY SERMON FOR THE NEW YEAR. 

It may seem almost uncharitable to evoke the ugly 
phantom of ingratitude at a season when human sym- 
pathy pours out its genial tide in richest streams, and 
has need to flow in far wider sweep and mightier 
volume still, to reach and save, and soothe, and cheer, 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


143 


all the suffering children of want, and sin, and sorrow 
— all that great and unfailing legacy left by the Givei 
of all good to the stewards of his earthly treasure. 
But God is Love;” how humiliating it is then to 
poor human pride, that the very quality which restores 
fallen man nearest to ^^the image and likeness in^ 
which he was created, should sometimes develope an- 
other that sinks him almost to the level of a fiend. 
And if keener than a serpent^s tooth it is to have a 
thankless child,” how fearfully sullied and ^im must 
be the fine gold of that original image, in the wayward 
child of a Heavenly F ather, that can receive his boun- 
ties with indifference, and turn away from the earthly 
benefactor with bitterness and scorn, allied to envy, 
hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness.” 

Such things have been, such things will be — but 
falter not for that, wax not weary in well doing,” ye 
to whom it is given to know how much more blessed it 
is “ to give than to receive.” Do we so use the gift 
that is in us as never to abuse it ? Is our gratitude 
for the greater good so perfect, that we can brook no 
flaw in that for the less ? “ The gallants laugh, and 

fling him gold, and he gathers it with a curse;” but 
was that man wholly ungrateful ? Ho, for he went 
to share it with the beggar that had pitied him” Man 
is not all evil,” — if we are human, what right have 
we to demand perfection ? Should we not rather look 
well to the spirit that is in us ? , It may be that in 
almsgiving we have forgotten charity; that our zeal 
is sometimes officious, that heeding too little the flush- 
ing cheek and quivering nerve, which should have 


144 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


warned ns that our step was on forbidden ground, we 
have pressed too rudely into unwilling confidence, until 
our well-meant kindness seemed impertinent and 
supercilious ; that we have not always remembered 
that the race is not always to the swift, or the battle 
to the strong/^ and lectured^ when we should have sym- 
pathized ; that we have sometimes forgotten that 
God loveth a cheerful giver,^' and clung too long and 
closely to his gifts, as to something won by our own 
sword and our bow ; or it may be that we have en- 
joyed ‘‘the luxury of doing good'' with too keen a 
relish — a relish more human than Christian ; that 
over all, and under all, our honest intent, and justly 
conscious ability to rule (in the man) wisely and well 
for others, there has been — unseen, perhaps, by our- 
selves, but visible enough to others — a strong propen- 
sity to rule, not a mere vulgar love of domineering, 
or “ insolence of office," but too deep a yearning “ to 
feel power palpably in ourselves," by seeing others suc- 
cumb to its influence; that hidden away somewhere 
in the secret recesses of a heart, “ deceitful above all 
things," is too much of that “ love, of 'patronizing one’s 
equals or letters,” which a satirical casuist pronounces 
“ the better half of human sympathy ; " — that this it is 
which so often makes us give, freely and cheerfully, 
when no amount of special pleading or self-flattery 
can make it any thing else but plain, downright “ chari- 
ty," what we will not give in employ or reward of 
honest industry and talent, or less stinted wages to 
humbler need ; and even when, ministering with the 
most delicate tact to human want, we may have but 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


145 


half realized the exigency for aid, to secure some pro- 
mised good, or avoid some untold ill ; and forgot in 
our own convenience, the bitter misery of hope de- 
ferred,'’ until our gentlest ministrations lost half their 
power to soothe and bless. 

If we have forgotten that ^^man is of three natures, 
requiring all for charity " — if, unchecked by the rigid 
lip and husky voice, the averted eye, and tardy reply, 
we have galled some high-toned, morbidly sensitive 
spirit almost beyond endurance, by a regular cate- 
chizing, which even a Barnum's coarse sensibilities and 
easy morality could feel “ enough to make any man 
swear, without kissing the Bible " — if our own impa- 
tient tone or altered bearing has betrayed how ill we 
brook the evasive answer, or more specific hint, that 
there may be bounds, which our curiosity has neither 
right nor need to pass — the slightest dissent from our 
plans, or want of implicit confidence in us — or, if we 
have held the cup of promise to the lip," until its 
contents lost their richest flavor, what right have we 
to complain, that after all our unquestionable and un- 
questioned kindness of general aim, all our actual fa- 
vors, so little gi’atitude is felt or shown ? 

It may be that the recipients have been reminded of 
them, too plainly and often, — that through our ownhu 
man imperfection grating too harshly on its counterpart 
in theirs, we have converted what might have been grati- 
tude, into a painful sense of obligation ; for it is not 
the better, but more sordid nature, that can bless the 
largesse which strikes down that “ self-respect which is 
worth more to man than money." The good Dr. 


146 


FAMILY PAPERS Al^iD 


.Young, the conscientious Dr. Johnson, could feel that 
even gold and patronage might come too late ; and 
if we steadfastly close our eyes to the wretchedness we 
‘^ cannot choose hut know,*' until the want becomes 
squalid, and the misery abject, then is all our fancied 
charity no better than refined selfishness — a mere syba- 
rite feeling, that cannot brook the slovenly, unmannered 
corpse of animal suffering ‘‘ between the wind and its 
nobility." 

What, NO CHARITY in my half supporting that sick 
woman ever since her drunken husband got into limbo 
No charity in my sending a shroud, and bread, and 
blankets, and fuel, to that troublesome fellow, that 
bothered me so with his “ little bill ?” In my sending 
drugs, and flannel, and broken victuals, to my old laun- 
dress, all the while she was laid up with that tiresome 
rheumatism ? In my bailing that fatherless boy I was 
going to get a place, out of the watch-house, and giv- 
ing him a dollar besides ? In my spending days and 
days to get that pretty girl, that charged so high for 
her beautiful embroideries, into the Magdalen Asylum.^^ 
In my heading a handsome subscription, to bury that 
poor artist who told me so haughtily, that he “ wasn't a 
beggar," and shot himself in a fit of desperation a week 
after ? In all my jellies, and watchings, and months 
of attention, to that plain seamstress, that caught her 
death cold coming and going in that thin dress and 
shawl last winter ? 

Is that meant for me ? — or me ? — or me ? No, sir, 
no, madam — that is, not specially * for if you ever 
take the trouble to be honest with yourselves, you must 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


147 


know kow you have answered that prayer, Lead us 
not into temptation ! '' how all that Kheumatics,'" 
or exposure comes, when you only do like others,^' and 
contrive to get three weeks^ washing done for two, and 
make it almost a point of honor to get the greatest pos- 
sible amount of work for the least possible pay, and 
then always make the fractions in change in your own 
favor ! how you, and just such as you, aU over the 
land, jew and screw until one worker after another 
drops into the grave of the body or soul! Charity? No ! 
it is nothing but reparation, and very inadequate repa- 
ration at that. Twenty loads of coal would not warm 
into gratitude to-day that father whose child died yes- 
terday, and day by day, for want of that “ little bill"' 
— a life of affluence never atone for the lost husband, 
betrayed by you to the worm of the still — a king's 
mausoleum bring back that frantic soul, that rushed 
uncalled, an accusing spirit, into the presence of its 
Maker! Of course, you wanted your bent! You 
could not patronize all the starveling artists in the 
country ; " but you knew he was starving — he asked 
for bread, and you gave a stone in the sneering pity of 
your proffered alms ! Do you dare to call that marble 
shaft — that effort of yours, all praiseworthy as it was, 
Madam, or even those liberal appliances, and still 
kinder nursings, charity ? Grod grant that it, and 
they, and all such costly ‘^pounds of cure" preferred to 
the unpretending ounce of preventive," may be ac- 
cepted in seat of repentance, and offering of atone- 
ment ; that the measure ye mete, be not yet mea- 
sured back to you again," through some husband or 


148 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


son, some sister or daughter now dear and dearly cher" 
ished as your own life and soul. But charity is love/'’ 
and love which can only look hack, never in advance, 
that will diminish the sum of human happiness for 
its own caprice, rather than indulge others (when occa- 
sion serves, and the illusion is harmless) in thinking 
they have made, or can make, some equivalent for 
benefits received, is not perfect enough for Him who 
teaches, that we may give all our goods to feed the 
poor,^^ and yet “ have not charity ! It is at best only 
that purblind humanity, which busies itself with the 
mangled and dying of the present concussion, but takes 
no thought, lifts no finger, to avert the like catastrophe 
from the on-coming train. 

This, however, is not meant chiefly for those who 
presumptuously set the lesser charity above the greater, 
and heedlessly or wilfully neglect, while raising the 
fallen, that truer mercy which prevents the foot that 
is ready to slide.'^ No, it is for those mercifully spared, 
thus far, that fearful gift of second sight, to see all 
others' faults and feel our own," which is born so often 
of a finely organized nature, and long discrepancy be- 
tween purse and position, — and who would gladly do 
more and better in the service of God and humanity. 

Many such warm-hearted, humble-minded Chris- 
tians there are, among the lofty, and the lowly, earnest, 
willing workers in God's vineyard, who wonder, and 
grieve that they so often fail, — grieve, not so much for 
the ingratitude shown to themselves, as Him whose 
servants they are ; but deeply grieve, when they look 
around on the mighty work to be done, and back on the 


OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


149 


year that is gone, with its record on high ; that with 
all their noble purpose . and large benevolence, so 
little'' has been accomplished. But be not discour- 
aged. Though very pleasant it is to read in the dewy 
lash and kindling eye, that our presence is hailed with 
a blessing, our footsteps followed by" a prayer, it is not 
for that the Christian labors. The blessing of him 
that was ready to perish " may never swell out in all 
its richness on his earthly ear ; but he knows who has 
said, that “ the cup of cold water," given in his name, 
shall not “ lose its reward." The sinful, the ignorant, 
the poor," are with us still ; a new unsullied year is 
ours, let us welcome and hallow the gift, by seeking 
earnestly of the Giver more of that charity which 
thinheih no evil; " more faith in God, more faith in 
humanity. There is more good with the ill, more grati- 
tude perhaps to God and to ourselves, than we deem. 
We are not omniscient — we may after all have misin- 
terpreted its indications. The heart will, aye must, 
leap kindly back to kindness ; " but it is a harp of a 
thousand strings, and many a chord has lost its tone. 
More discord than melody may often follow our careless 
hand, or rude, unskilful touch ; but there is one touch 
that never fails, one hand that giveth liberally and up- 
braideth not ; " let us turn then, meekly and prayer- 
fully to Him, for a higher wisdom and nicer skill, that 
we may yet be the “ humble instruments in his hands 
of tuning that harp anew, to sing the praises of God 
and the Lamb." 

J'lnnury Ist^ 1857 . 

12 * 


L. L. 


150 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


PAETHIAlSr AEROWS. 

“ don’t know what it all means.” 

Well, it really is deplorable, the way people do 
misapply their relative pronouns. There, for instance, 
all common candor, if not good syntax, required the 
use of who instead of what. But where, in the name 
of ‘‘gumption,” have you been mummyizing, all this 
time, my dear Casper Hauser, number two, never to 
have heard before, how unblushingly, public and private 
Secretaries proclaim their own infamy, (contrary to 
Law and Statute, which require no man to criminate 
himself,) hj jpullishing, stolen copies of papers to which 
they had access but no right ; nor of other “ indivi- 
duals^'^ “ vexatiously and injuriously,” detaining docu- 
ments in transitu^ like J. W. W., for example, until 
forced to give them up by legal process. 

Old Eip Yan Winkle must have been a small cir- 
cumstance, if you, Mr. Free-and-Enlightened, have got 
to be told, now, in this last half of the nineteenth centu- 
ry, that those four daughters of old Mrs. Leach, who were 
eterpally crying “ give, give,” are so far outdone by a 
gaunt, hungry pack of wolves, called Authors and In- 
ventors, that the poor, be-plundered Publishers, and 
Capitalists have to commit petit Larceny, on a grand 
scale, and infringe Copy and Patent Eights, whenever 
they can, to indemnify themselves, for the inhuman ex- 
tortions made in their name, by some of the gang, who 
impudently insist, on putting at least the Jackal’s share 
of their own brains, in their own pockets, “ any how.” 


EX-OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


151 


And not only that, but actually have to cease consider- 
ing “ Murder, as one of the fine arts,” and degrade 
“ Indirect Assassination,” into a mere coarse, every day 
incidentaJ to the High Art, of ‘‘ How not to do it.” 
And dear, dear, what a time of it, some of them do 
have, to make some of the rapacious, idle ilk, earn their 
own monuments, then lie down peaceably and have a 
“ tomb of printer’s ink wept o’er them and what a 
pity they do sometimes happen to overdo the matter a 
little. 

There’s one set of them, and a certain, regular, old 
hard case, leading, to my certain knowledge, such a 
dance between the two, that Mrs. Gundy, Mr. W orld 
and his wife, and “ all the rest of mankind,” stand a 
pretty fair chance to get all the remarkabilities of that 
epitaph, “learned and conned by rote,” long before they 
get a chance to recprd it, (the more’s the pity,) but 
then, 

“ Before one does engage a foe, 

’Tis well lie should his strength and courage know.” 

A woman, not being “ a reasoning animal,” cannot of 
course be expected to reason, but all men ought to be 
and are^ by virtue of the toga, and they might have 
known better than to expect anybody with “ Lawrence 
J.,”*for a patronymic, ever to give up the ship^’’ at any- 
body’s summons, so long as there was a single spar afloat, 
to go down with, though all the lead and antimonyf of 

* (It may be James, or Julia, Jayne, or Judd, or Jay,"^ 

It’s not for you, or any printer’s imp to say.) 


t Type metal. 


152 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


the country were drawn up in grand file — ready, willing 
and waiting — to bury the laurelled dead, with all the 
honors. 

Celebrities of some kinds, though, don’t have to die, 
honcb fide^ before they can get an Obituary. There’s 
the amiable and distinguished Absalom Bess, now ; 
hundreds upon hundreds all over the country, can testi- 
fy to having seen him alive and well, divers of times 
since the Charleston Mercury pronounced his eulogy 
some four years ago, and much in this wise, ss : 

“ Oh an excellent man was Absalom Bess, 

At each and eveiy tale of distress. 

He flared right up, like a rocket ; 

He felt for all who ’neath poverty’s dart 
Were doomed to bear life’s roughest part, 

He felt for them in his inmost heart, 

But he never felt in his pocket. 

Yet all said he was an excellent inan. 

For the poor he’d preach, for the poor he’d plan, 

To better them he was willing ; 

But the oldest man who had heard him pray, 

And preach for the poor, in a pitiful way. 

Couldn’t remember exactly to say. 

He had ever given a shilling. 

But an excellent man was Absalom Bess, 

And the world threw up its hands to hies 5, 

Whenever his name was mentioned ; 

But he died, he did, one day, and oh. 

He went right down to the shades below, 

Wheie all, alas, I fear are doomed to go. 

Who are only good intentioned.” 

Pretty well up to Poet’s License, that fib of yours, 
Mr. Mercury., about the popular gentleman’s demise, 


EX-OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


158 


rather more than ‘‘ three removes from truth^'^ I fear, and 
altogether, Mercury four times sublimated, I should 
call it : but corrosive svhlimate didn’t seem to kill him ; 
indeed, I rather think it made him immortal and ubi- 
quitous, though all his tine talks, never mollified Lady 
Lach^ when she was about. She no more minded giv- 
ing his plausible face, chalked hat,” or black coat, a 
wipe of the pen, than Ajp Crab did, hurling his toma- 
hawk through and through Mr. Phar-I-see Philan- 
thropy’s special brevet, to redress all grievances he 
couldn’t reach, and let alone, or never see, all he could 
— had in short no more respect for that hypocrisy not 
perfect enough to conceal itself, than he had for that 
mission to put up a highly rarified, but very cheap sort 
of Human Sympathy for Bunkum. In fact, all his 
demi-civilization never did teach him how anybody 
could compromise Keligion, or Humanity, by merely 
crying, stop thief ^ when cunning Kascality, was making 
off securely, under their stolen cloaks ; and if either of 
those ex-Lictors had any true faith in the Keligions, or 
Benevolence of such professed exponents, as never pre- 
sume to practise any, except “ by order of the board,” 
it’s more than I’m prepared to say. 

One of them I know, launches her “Parthian Ar- 
rows,” very freely at all such pompous, canting shams, 
would-be saints and Maecenases, “ with the ‘ grand tal- 
ents ’ for enacting patron, on the easy terms of dispens- 
ing those cheap commodities. Promises and Advice ; ” 
but altogether, 

“ Too chary, and saintly, and dignified quite, 

To read any book that a woman could write ; ” 


FAMILY PAPEES AND 


164c 

and entirely too supercilious not to enact Mentor, to 
one guilty of such like atrocities, and inform her, clearly 
enough, how utterly commonsenseless, mediocre^ and 
incompetent to see, know or feel^ anything else, that 
everybody else does, she must per force be ; — launches 
them — as did her ancient prototypes with fatal skill — 
on turning to leave the field ; — and with such cool reck- 
lessness, that a consequence calculating ” Down East- 
ter exclaims, in unaffected amaze, “ 'but Madam^ how 
dare you f ” 

It’s my opinion, “ and fire and water couldn’t melt 
it out of me,” that she “ dare ” do anything that’s hon- 
est, say anything that’s true, in the haughty assurance 
that her word requires no confirmation, her dignity no 
new stamina, to bide the brunt, if need be, of any hand 
to hand contact with utility — that her position, is no 
pitiful, mushroom growth, requiring constant watching, 
and wet nursing, like some spurious Hotliouse plant, 
that might turn to a common weed, if exposed to the 
common air. And if she’s any higher regard than pity 
and contempt, tor the poor, parvenu spirit, in 

any rank, witli no such calm consciousness to sustain it, 
it’s more than I believe. A painted moth might as 
well expect her to looJc up^ in admiration, or stand back, 
in awe ; she could just as well love, or venerate, in her 
heart of hearts, that tardy, equivocal Sympathy, which 
can never feel, until it sees^ abject want parading itself, 
as a beggar does his scars. 

And I’m afraid she’s too little faith in, and small 
love for, any charity, even the best of the “ material ” 
kind, unless it can ‘‘ help others to help themselves ” 


ex-official documents. 155 

without first indelicately, if not arrogantly, taking tne 
NO VALUE offered, or received, for granted, then putting 
on all sorts of patronizing airs, as if it meant to claim 
an ovation, or indemnify itself forthwith, by thus pal- 
pably assuming to give^ what after all it perhaps only 
pays. ^ ‘‘ Oh why,” she exclaims in one of her hortatory, 
Socratic moods, cannot Beneficence siojp^ when it has 
done nobly and well, ministering kindly and freely one 
moment to the suffering body, without inflicting, in the 
next, a deeper, and more incurable pang, on the far 
more suffering spirit ? And how can patrons and ben- 
efactors help knowing, how galling must be this con- 
tinued, and useless, and needless, recall of the too well 
known, and most humiliating fact, that they actually do 
often give in supposed largesse, be the equivalent even- 
tually wdiat it may ; and why can they not rest, till they 
have effaced all the pleasant sense of present relief, by 
conjuring up all the ‘‘ insolence of office,” all the indigni- 
ty, and grief and wrong, and bitter memories, of a bitter 
history! Why will they not see, if they cannot feel, 
how strong, is ail but the base spirit’s impulse, to spurn 
the did^ so ostentatiously labelled ahns — how hard, how 
very hard, they often make the conventional, / 
you, to pronounce ? As for any real gratitude, God, 
who made the heart, knows, that it cannot survive, un- 
der the crushing sense of pain, so ^vantonly, thought- 
lessly, cruelly, but, it is to be hoped, unconseiously, in- 
flicted ? 

Well, so much for Ap Crab and Lady Lack, with 
their quizzical rhyming, savage and sermonizing veins, 
and their Chiefs incorrigible idea, that if s extremely im- 


156 


FAMILY PAPKES AND 


pertinent to peep under her “ double veil,” and say 
Miss Betsey Tkotwood, when she chooses (for the salie 
of peace and quiet, and having a respectable name to 
fall back upon some day) to say Louise Elemjay, and 
outrageously impudent, to dub any woman Authoeess 
that’s no sort of kin to that old fop, who wouldn’t have 
his silk hose mended, because a hole was ‘ the accident 
of the day,’ whereas a darn was premeditated poverty,” 
and has mended her own clothes, when she had to fas- 
ten the seam at both ends and pile up bocks and pil- 
lows to sustain her hand under it, even if she does oc- 
casionally commit rhymes and other “ black and white,” 
with the other. 

And now, my dear Young America, I’ve my sus- 
picions, that it’s only a hoax, or mock modesty, that 
surmise of yours, that there maybe meanings too recon- 
dite or recAercAe for your comprehension; but if you 
really are of that opinion, and want to know what any- 
thing else means, let me earnestly and soberly entreat, 
not indeed that you’d forego a single Circus, Abolition 
or Woman’s rights Lecture, Cock fight, Opera ticket, 
Horse race. Fancy ball, game at poker, or “love of a 
bonnet ” — much less sacrifice a poodle dog, or darling 
moustache^ for the good of upholstery, and to purchase 
some abridged Abridgment, at least, of General History 
and Ancient Mythology — oh no, that would be asking en- 
tirely too much ; and besides ’twould be no use, for you 
never could muster nerve to lay down the last new 
novel, play-bill, dice box, fashion plates, or sj^erting 
register,- and find time to bore yourself with any such 
old fogy yarns. I’d as soon expect to see you diving 


EX-OFFIOIAL DOCUMEINTS. 


157 


into Benton’s Thirty Years, or an Encyclopedia, and 
take it miich amiss, that the Graham, and the Godey, 
and the Putnam’s don’t help out the Harper, and get 
you posted up a little easier, and faster — they should 
if I could make them — but oh, do^ do return to your 
mother. 

Do solemnly conjure her, by all the memory of your 
filial affection, heed of her counsels, and unwearying 
devotion to her wishes, to exchange her gold rims for 
steel, sell that ancient tea caddy, and her last silver 
spoons, mortgage her jointure, and break the clasps 
from the old Pamily Bible if necessary, to buy you one 
Political, Belles lettres, and good Classic Dictionary 
(with a common English one, to help out some with the 
“ big words,” you know) and lay in enough Lager beer, 
cigars, Schnapps, smoking-caps, bon bons, and honiton 
extra, to coax you and Sis, by double allowance, to lie 
down quietly — head on sofa, heels on mantel, and 
sprawl, slipshod, on music stool, while she, Mamma^ 
humbly asks leave to put her cushion, instead of prayer 
book, under your feet, a little “ premeditated poverty ” 
into her stockings, lights your cigar, hands her vinai- 
grette, and respectfully implores you both to listen, 
while she not only “reads,” but “ splains 2iT\di svoundsP 
She’ll do it, I havn’t a doubt, if you only ask her, 
for she’s uncommonly dutiful, and you are perfectly 
“ irresistible.” 

J, Lawrence Melvili.e, 

rotaiedAd Inter ” to the ex-Ji/rWj of Censoeia Licit ria 


158 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


NO ROOM. 

“I WAS A STRANGER, AND YE TOOK MB NOT IN.” 

Shut out from life’s homes, crushed down in the crowd, 
Alone in life’s haunts, alone in the inn. 

Alone in my sorrow, and shunned by the proud. 

As if trace of deep wrong were brand of dark sin ; 
No room” in the palace, the cottage, the hall. 

No rest for my foot on the hearthstone I see ; 

No room” for the stranger wherever I call ; 

Will the low, narrow house” have any for me ? 

No room for my love in affection’s fond fold, 

No room for my song in the world’s madd’ning din; 
No ROOM IN THE WORLD — ay, the same world of old. 
That found for its Master “ no room in the inn.” 
No room for the Maker and Saviour of all. 

Who came to “ his own,” and they welcomed him not 
No room but the stable, the manger, the stall ; 

Hast thou, lone and homeless, so lonely a lot ? 


Is it much for thee, then, to he as thy Lord ? 

Say, little of faith, is thy courage so small ? 

Earth’s ‘^cup of cold water” may not win reward. 

But the thirst of his soul it mocked with its gall ; 

The crimson-hued agony welled from his brow. 

Yet Father forgive,” from his writhing lips fall; 
And a house without hands,” he is building it now : 
Shame on thee, faint heart, to murmur at all ! 

L. Elemjay. 


EX-OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


159 


OUR TIMES. 

In the “ old fogy ” times, when men were not wise, 

A Deesse there was much esteemed in their eyes 
To lack the fair virtue were scandalous shame, 

And more dearly than life they cherished her fame 
The sad, weary stranger she sheltered with care, 

And her ^gis once spread, the foeman must spare. 
With salt of true welcome, she garnished her feast, 

The hearth was her altar, its master her priest. 

Her Temples were legion, our own sunny clime 
Had worshippers true of that virtue sublime ; 

But sons of those old, noble worshippers true 
When ye wandered afar to homes that were new, 
Forgot ye the Lares that hallowed the hearth 
In the clime of the South, the land of your birth ? 
Virginia’s old pride, Kentucky’s high name. 

Bo ye barter them both for wages of shame ? 

Oh soul of the South, shall I see thee no more— 

Does she cling to it yet, her high-hearted lore ? 

If SHE spurn in hot haste, like minions of might. 

The prayer of the victim that’s struggling for right, 
Woe, woe, for the heart of high chivalry gone. 

The hope of the weak, that is trampled upon. 

And woe for “ the feeling’s rust, the spirit’s blight,” 
The life of life’s sunshine, enshrouded in night. 

The name of the “ stranger,” that’s sacred ” no more, 
The heart of Humanity wedded to ore ! 

Oh mourn for the Be esse, whose altars are cold. 

For the life that is young, the heart that is old. 

A gnome sits enthroned where she queened it of yore, 
Bouble-barred is the heart, fast locked is the door, 


160 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


Her hearth-fire is out, her “ latch-string » drawn in, 

No key but a gold one admission can win, 

No angels are e’er entertained “ unawares,” 

No “ room ” find they now, sans the gold-dust or “ shares. 
We’ve fallen ’tis clear on “ respectable ” days, 

Eefined past enduring “ half-civilized ways.” 

True marble to Mammon we build, and (for eye 
Want-stricken to death) marble lies to the sky I 
With “ untempered mortar ” we stucco our creeds, 

Put religion in words, but little in deeds, 

And they “ on the mountains,” glad tidings who bring, 
May starve as they list, dance, fiddle or sing, 

If with common Hall free, they can’t make a swell. 

Poor showmen they are, stupid yarns they must tell. 

“ Who serve at,” should “ live of the altar,” we read, 

Let them eat altar then, we’d have them indeed. 

Money-graspers of old, with scourges were taught. 

That God’s house was ‘‘holy,” though ev’ry one brought 
His own merchandise there, to buy and to sell— 

Don’t see for our part, but they did pretty well. 

Never heard them accused of selling the wall. 

Or smearing the fioor, with tobacco, at all. 

Perhaps they did put stolen silks in their pews. 

Sell villainous wines, swindle men of their dues| 

(As some church-goers do, to this very day,) 

And plan an extortion when kneeling to pray, 

Kob widow and orphan, and many such things. 

Yet talk all the while quite as gracious as kings, 

Por certes, they caught it, those graceless old Jews, 

But we’re too clever far, to stand in their shoes: 

Ihink nice, pattern Parson is needed in town. 

To do up the work other people lay down. 

Then we like a “good preach,” and feel no remorse, 

If to give ns a talk,” he hire his own horse 


EX-OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


161 


Should he ask for a dime, we think it a waste 
Of his time and ours, and in very had taste. 

He might as well call broken promises “ lies,” 

(We rather suspect that the skin’s off our eyes) 

Six days,” he does say, we are welcome to use, 

In gratitude then, the “ seventh,” we’ll abuse ; 

And Death mean to distance, by dashing on ‘ fast ’— 
Avernus is nothing, Elysium means caste ; ” 

And caste that is formed in the gnome’s dirty mould. 
What’s Ithuriel’s touch to impress of gold ? 

What’s worth without wealth, should the poor silly one 
Come asking for bread, we can give it “ a stone.” 

What’s SENSE to “ red cents,” will it buy, will it lend. 

Or attention secure to your very sick friend ? 

Quite “ sick ” he must be, to expect that we will. 

Any promise we make, feel bound to fulfil ; 

For respectable nose we’ve turned up so high 
‘‘ Stuck-up ” piety lives, poor virtue must die. 

Alas for the piety, false to its core. 

For the virtue’s fair fame, now stainless no more. 

And alas for the Faith, that honored the Laun, 

For honor’s bright shield, that the rust is upon ; 

Yes alas for the time, when commerce is king, 

If iron to the heart, with each iron horse he bring , 

If the Ruth, and the Truth, men worshipped ere then. 

He must crush in his path, like the children of men. 

Oh mourn for the old Hospitality fled. 

Till her echo comes back, like voice of the dead. 

From far southern climes, where will float her last breath. 
When “ ruffians ” and “ shriekers ” have done her to death. 


Nov. 1857. 


162 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


MANNY NOT MANLY. 

On an express-officer^ wJio^ upon ihe palpably false pretext 
of a DOUBLE hack-charge^ extorted double the fee specified 
in advance^ on a small package ; well knowing it to he 
the very last cent of a peculiarly helpless Invalid^ thus 
left^ as he also knew ^ without means even to mail the busi- 
ness letter then in hand. 

Jew Shylock of Venice, as all must confess, 

Wasn’t sharp, like Jew Shylock of Adams’ Express. 

“ One pound,” said the ‘ bond,’ of that Shylock of old. 

And he claimed but the owe, we’re credibly told. 

This Manny (not man) says “ one dollar will do,” 

But when the time comes, “ Mannie ” robs you of two; 

And a dime more to win, by playing that role. 

Would shave out the life, and sell out the soul. 

No lien upon his “Ancient Henry ” should take. 

Non inventus ’twould prove, and “ Auld Scotia,” break. 

Montgomery, Ala., June , 1 st , 1858. 


LADY LACK’S PARTING COMPLIMENTS, 

To the 'oery latest “ Proxy Lecturers,'^ who think honest efforts for 
independent subsistence, very reprehensible, in a Lady ^her 
standing and intelligence. 

Ten righteous, old Sodom had saved, but here, 

“ Ten righteous ” are not, I very much fear. 


EX-OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


163 


Nervous — very — on social position, 

It couldn’t have been their normal condition, 

Poor, parvenu wretches, strayed to the South, 

With copper in purse, hadnH ought in their mouth— 
Now, wiseacres grown, for mending the race, 

And saying what’s what, in ev’ry one’s case, 
Christianity's arch, they climb up so high. 

Their life-work is next, to give it the lie. 

If high lore you want, they are there, but when 
Good deeds are the thing, they’re all busy then. 
Some rich man to greet, a week they could spend, 

No moment of time, to serve a sick friend. 

To plebeian dolt, perhaps they might give^'' 

But talent, and rank, shouldn’t honestly live. 

Seek almshouse and die^ they tacitly say. 

The measure they mete, think none will repay ; 

But “ God is not mocked^'' the measure each metes, 
May come back again, in these very streets — 

God pity them then, their own cherished ones. 

When asking for “ bread ” they get only ‘‘ stones^ 
Jan. 18th, 1859. 


IMPEOMPTU. 

To a distant stranger, sinking under a double bereavement. 

Poor soul-stricken mourner, now weeping thy dead, 
Their footfalls on earth yield thee music no more ; 
But, mother of angels, lift up thy bowed head : 

To lure thee to heaven, they have passed on before ! 
Thy spring bud and blossoni, 0 leave them with 
God 5 

‘‘ He loves you, he loves you — fass under the rod 


164 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


You will miss their glad shout, their clasp, and their 
smile. 

And evening’s last kiss on the love-lighted hrow ; 
Your pathway on earth will be darker the while. 
But no sorrow nor sin can shadow them now. 

Thy spring bud and blossom, O leave them with 
God; 

‘‘He loves you, he loves you — under the rod!”^ 

Charleston, S. C., 1859. 

% 


WHOSE IS IT? 

A quizzical disquisition on the popular belief that Authors have all the 
vanity and conceit and none of the common sense in the world. Illus- 
trated by the Author's personal experiences. 

Whose is it ? Vanity, we mean, though no doubt 
the word ’s a misnomer nine times out of ten, be- 
cause people don’t half the time know when they 
take the word in their mouth that it isn’t the exact 
synonym of conceit; but “whose is it?” that is the 
question. 

Why, authors’, of course ; don’t you see how natu- 
rally the two words always go together, just as if 
they were all one ? precisely as they ought to be, 
and would, too, if it wasn’t for that pestilent, “ coun- 
teracting principle” of an apostrophe. The ugly 
little “pollywog,” it’s a standing imputation on the 
logic and impartiality of Hoah Webster. Why 
don t he cast it out, like the u’s, I’s, and other un- 

* Over the door of the sheepfold was suspended, it is said, the 
“red rod of sacrifice,” with which the Hebrews marked, as they 
passed under it, the lambs set apart for God. 


EX-OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


165 


clean beasts, from bis Ark Etymological ? Author’s 
vanity! Just look at the equivocal, half, hand- 
fastened thing ! Can ’t some great lexicographer 
put an end to that disreputable liaison — have the 
whole five syllables decently married, and made the 
legitimate exponent of all overweening yearning 
after other people’s admiration and most unbounded 
and unfounded possession of our own ? It ’s a pity 
some one of them don’t, for that’s precisely what 
people mean ; and only think what a saving of time 
and ink it would be to write authorsvanity ; the pre- 
fixes, of course, representing all the self-conceit and 
two-fifths the vanity. 

That may be all very true; but if possession does 
give the ‘'eleven points in law” — and unquestioned 
ascription, from time immemorial, amount to pretty 
much the same thing — we are not going to concede 
the twelfth without putting in a demurrer in behalf 
of some other human bipeds, unjustly defrauded of 
their fair share in the proprietorship. There are 
other perpetrators of “black and white:” for con- 
venience’s sake, we’ll call them all editors^ and com- 
pare their claims first ; not that these are at all para- 
mount to those of other heirs-at-law, only that they 
are a sort of cousins-german. 

Well, don’t the whole posse of them know that 
full one-half of their own dearly beloved readers are 
entirely too modest to think, upon their own respon- 
sibility, that a rose is a rose, until perfectly well as- 
sured that no independent, impudent wight can dare 
to call it a poppy without getting soundly tongue- 
lashed for his pains ? And don’t every man of them 


166 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


belong to a mutual admiration and vituperation so- 
ciety, and screw bis blushing phiz up to the “ stick- 
ing point” of saying every now and. then how well 
his loyal freres of the former thinks he does battle 
with his wary foes of the latter ; and what a loss he 
and his invaluable sheet would be to the world in 
general, and his party in particular ? To be sure he 
does, and does perfectly right, too ; for what is it, 
after all, but showing his readers what he does have 
a chance to see and they don’t, unless they poke 
their ugly, inquisitive noses (noses are almost always 
ugly) into his sanctum, and tumble over his ex- 
changes ? 

Authors, too — especially if publishing on their 
own hook” — often do much the same thing, on a 
smaller scale ; that is, they fancy that ours being “a 
great country,” there may be several things done 
and said in it more than all the rest of the world or- 
dinarily knows ; and thinking it on the whole rather 
important to themselves, set soberly to work to get 
some few of them better posted up. Is it any fault 
(or merit) of any one of them that the lazy, the 
busy, the heedless, ignorant, and indifferent choose 
to spare their own time and eyes, at the expense of 
his lungs and delicacy, ignore all the proofs laid be- 
fore them, and force him to repeat them over and 
over, until the endless iteration and reiteration is 
ten times more irksome to him than it can possibly 
be to anybody else ; or does it constitute full proof of 
his preemption right to authors vanity ?” Rather 
the reverse, we should say, for that would presup- 
pose that his name and fame did overshadow the 


EX'OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


167 


whole land, not nerve him to any such arduous efforts 
to extend them. And hard enough they are, too ; 
for if all the astronomers in existence were to vow 
and declare that its eccentric luminosity had been 
starring it about somewhere ever since they could 
remember, some people would never believe that a 
comet was a comet, if it had n’t been blazing away 
right before their own face and eyes the whole 
blessed time ; or if they did, comprehend that some 
‘‘distinguished” authorships might be some like 
those old ones, little talked of until they are near. 

Editors, on the other hand, are sometimes con- 
ceited enough to think, or at least pretend, that a 
good-sized, readable book is n’t worth as much as 
their comments, and so by “masterly inactivity” 
cheat themselves out of a positive advantage, and 
the honor of the author’s acquaintance, lest he 
should chance to reap some little incidental profit. 
It’s to be hoped the demented are rare; hut we have 
known instances of some such strange delusion and 
miserly apprehension. Others, more courteous and 
less niggardly, though not a whit the less overween- 
ing, coolly aver that they have “ complimented” him 
with a notice, as if every individual page of his book 
had n’t cost as much labor of hand and brain as the 
filling up of a few square inches, more or less, of his 
“valuable space” with the reprint of an old notice, 
pertinent and well put, perhaps, at the time it was 
written ; and a few of those astute and very original 
lines, signifying that they, the lords Tripod, had n’t 
read the hook on their tables, (it might keep them, 
as well as their betters, awake at unseasonable hours, 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


168 

you know,) but having looked at the type and felt 
of the paper, would venture to commend it, because 
others had. Others, again— and these are still more 
hopelessly far gone in that absurd hallucination— 
actually hold out their hands, like so many shame- 
less, impudent beggars, asking even us to oil their 
palms,” just as if ‘‘caustic” and “attic salt” wouldn’t 
be a great deal better for “itching” ones, and theirs 
didn’t need them much more than “filthy lucre” — 
more by token that failing, as they always will, to 
get that or any other filth from us, their all-grasping 
fingers still stick fast to our backs, as if they hadn’t 
the fear of the Eighth Commandment before their 
eyes, or any other enactment against the more atro- 
cious thefts called swindling. Perhaps, though, it 
is from some little lingering sense of decency and 
consciousness that our books, having once touched 
pitch, must be defiled, and consequently of no fur- 
ther use to us. Thank Glod, we don t often meet 
face to face with any thing quite so mean, the ma- 
jority of their corps being, so far as we know, fully 
as honorable, able, and com'pos as other folks, to say 
the least ; still there are living specimens of such 
extreme stultification. 

Then there is the “talking-good,” matter-of-fact 
class of people, with no end to its number and vari- 
ety; and very excellent, kind-hearted people they 
are, too, many of them ; still, one cannot well help 
thinking some of them a little supercilious occa- 
sionally. For example, when some poor wretch of 
an author— for his, it must be remembered, is the 
class against whose monopoly of “ authors vanity” 


EX-OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


169 


we are protesting — has no resource but the pen, no 
means to await Bihliopolist pleasure, and is forced, 
for lack of a better, to be his own publisher and 
salesman too, it must be rather trying to be told 
over and over so graciously by every one of them, 
that they should think it would he better to have the regular 
publishers do it for him, just as if he didn’t know that 
as well as they. ITot particularly pleasant, either, to 
be virtually called to account for it, even if he has, 
as the editors sometimes allege, stood by the South 
honestly and fearlessly, while others of half the 
talent were winning fortunes by covering it with 
insult and abuse.” 

Serves him right, though, the consummate sim- 
pleton ; did n’t he know the South always preferred 
to encourage and sustain its assailants ? And sup- 
posing he has, as they say, ‘‘ won literary reputation 
without publishers’ aid, in defiance of sectional 
jealousy and the universal prejudice against sales by 
author;” what business had he, the daring, self-willed 
rebel, to fiy in the face of that autocracy and this 
one-ideaed institution? No wonder the mentors 
think it necessary to administer grave reprimands, 
under the form of patronizing suggestions, which, 
if not always new, might be very useful, if only 
practical and accessible. And no wonder they keep 
him continually filing declarations of penury and 
isolation, think the vindication but half satisfactory, 
and insist on putting him through a series of expos- 
tulations, cross-examinations, hypotheses, and re- 
joinders, not exactly such as Barnum said “were 
enough to make any man swear, without kissing the 


170 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


Bible,” but very like some leading questions we have 
to answer (about three hundred and sixty-five times 
every year) much as follows, videlicit : I sup'pose you 
can’t do much sewing? Well, sir, we do contrive to 
get through pretty much all the little we have to do, 
after a fashion, and did, even when having to fasten 
the seam at both ends, and pile up books and pillows 
to sustain the hand under it. Suppose that on an 
average we might, in the course of the day, sew on 
about a dozen or so of those strings and buttons” 
the newspapers make so much fuss about, if any of 
the buttonless would only give us a liberal salary 
therefor, and a maid to thread the needles when our 
free hand refuses to help. 

Well, there’s teaching. Yes, we know it. Couldn’t 
you try that, in some private family, at least ? Yever 
again, madam, unless we get dishonest enough to 
defraud some poor child of far more than the few 
hundreds taken out of the father’s pocket; for 
money lost can be replaced — lost time, never. Hap- 
py, though, to oblige you, or any friend of yours 
that wants an invalid to nurse, instead of a walkins: 
compendium of all the ologies and accomplishments 
that fit a young lady for any thing but the actual 
duties of life, and would like to pay us for not teach- 
ing every thing we don’t know, and lack the strength 
and skill to impart, if we did. 

Ladies som.etimes edit gapers ; (so we have heard ;) 
woiddn’t that suit you better? Possibly. And the 
next time any capitalists offer to set up an editorial 
chair for our use, why, we are older now, if not 
wiser, than we were once, and shall perhaps have 


EX-OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


171 


little enough, conscience left to let them run the 
risk. The existing tripods are all occupied, (if not 
well filled,) so far as we know, and even they, if 
one may believe the incumbents, require some phy- 
sique. 

they want contributors.'^ Enough, it would 
seem, for some of them to have copied one of our 
books pretty extensively, with our permission, and 
changed all the signatures hut one in contravention 
of it, lest (it is fair to infer) they should chance to 
help make ours “one of the names” with which they 
might some day have to compete. So, at least, we 
have heard from the far-off marquees of F ort Lara- 
mie ; and as for the rest of them— Tiever, when we 
apply, always “overstocked for a year to come.” 

In fact, we may be very thankful if, where they 
don’t like our Southern principles or post-mark, 
they merely return the MS. unopened, without the 
scratch of a pen to say why or wherefore, instead 
of insolently returning our own notes, too, after 
losing papers of value, and putting us and our friends 
to serious inconvenience to recover the residue, as 
do some “lords spiritual” and “lords temporal,” 
who seem to think “that when St. James speaks of 
visiting the fatherless and widows in their affliction, 
he only means such as can return the call in their 
own carriages.” (See Censoria Lictorin, pages 59 
.and 71.) 

So you see, sir, and madam, that we are indubi- 
tably “the one too many” in the world, try what 
and where we will. This same world has a great 
many tight places, but no sticking ones ; and seeing 


172 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


we are not quite good enough to be translated, you 
might as well let us “gang on we shall get to the 
end of it some day, if it is round. 

“JTbr all that^ I am sure it must he very hard and dis- 
tressing to your refined^ sensitive feelings!'' Well, we 
have found that out, too, without the help of any- 
body’s superior wisdom, but never did find out that 
it was any the less painful for being continually re- 
minded of it, nor the use or humanity of preaching 
to a poor wretch in the water on the folly of tum- 
bling in, the pangs of drowning, and the hazard of 
drift-wood and straws ; and do verily believe one 
row-boat or rope would be more exhilarating than 
dozens of pathetic jeremiads and whole regiments 
of monitors, standing high and dry, hands shut and 
mouths wide open, doing nothing but sympathize 
and sermonize. i7ow, God forbid we should ever 
make light of any real sympathy, however inefficient. 
We could not be so base; it is too holy; though a 
mere wordy, supercilious “pity” we do spurn and 
scorn from our very inmost soul. 

But do these monitors presume to snub, or dare 
to pity, in pure mockery, purposely to harrow up 
our feelings, that we may give them “a wide berth” 
ever after? Some of them, possibly; not many. 
Do they think, then, that we are too brutalized to 
recoil instinctively enough from exhibiting our in- 
firmities all over the land, “ as a beggar does his. 
scars;” that we never writhe under the injustice of 
having thus to seek patronage which comes volun- 
tarily to others, backed (as we are not) by publish- 
ers’ aid, though “far inferior,” if the first critics 


EX-OPFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


173 


of the country may be allowed to decide ; or that 
we are too stolid to feel the grave rebukes under- 
lying all their “ lengthened sage advices?” 0 no, 
not at all, unless preeminently blessed with eyes and no 
eyes.'’ 

What, then? Do they suppose we rather enjoy 
giving an account of our actions to every ^‘wayward 
clod of marl,” see no indignity in having our works 
rejected one day, because their ability and our po- 
sition combined can require no such form of sale ; 
and taken on the next in largesse, with the very 
probable intention of exposing them at once to the 
‘‘evil report” of some child in intellect or years, to 
whose grade of capacity they were never intended 
to he adapted ? Do they really fancy that we care 
nothing for domestic ease and rightful social appre- 
ciation, that we love toil and pain, neglect, humilia- 
tion, exposure, and aggravated physical suffering for 
their own sakes, or are less interested and less likely 
than themselves to give some thought and attention 
to the discovery of what would be to us (not them) 
some easier and better way to the glorious privilege 
of being independent? 

O no ! none of all these things ; certainly not ; 
hut, then, partly, perhaps, from dislike to having 
old settled prejudices unsettled, and the dear A1 
Sirat Arch, Eespectability, quite broken down, as 
it might he, but for their “eternal vigilance,” by 
some reckless foot without golden slipper, and part- 
ly because it is easier to scold the wrong than set 
them right ; they do sometimes cavil when, to say 
the least, they might as well hold their tongues, and 


174 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


not discourage others; for we do protest against 
having our fragile fretted away until some- 

body sends a life-boat, instead of merely telling us 
that they rather suspect there may be somebody 
somewhere who has one at command. Some, no 
doubt, would like well enough to see us well aboard, 
or safely moored, even if they don’t stop to lend 
much of a helping hand, or do forget to hail the 
owner; and not a few, we firmly believe, would 
gladly devote both time and means in any way that 
we could accept without degradation, were the latter 
only theirs. 

There are those, however, who, when they can’t 
do great things in either way, and see that we are 
not over fond anyhow of ^‘praying to Hercules, in- 
stead of putting our own shoulder to the wheel,” 
cheerfully do little ones to help on all they can in 
ours. Very dear are they to us, but very little right 
have they, we fear, to a place in their order. In 
sober earnest, we don’t believe any thing but a lucky 
accident ever shut them in, while we were shut out, 
for such vagaries are surely little more common- 
sensical than our own. They will never make bril- 
liant stars in that matter-of-fact galaxy, from whose 
serene depths shines out for ever and ever the calm 
conviction that ‘‘Nature’s poor, unfriended child, 
the bard,” can by no possibility have the least par- 
ticle of common sense. 

How should he, or any of his ilk, when they have 
engrossed every atom of it, just as he and his, have 
all the authorsvanity extant? But, then, they are 
far more generous than he, and not only concede 


EX-OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


175 


all that without grumblings but actually respect the 
injunction, “Let him that hath two coats give to him 
that hath none,” occasionally. And only think what 
a blessing it is that they do vouchsafe him at times 
some few crumbs of benefit from their own superior 
endowments, and how condescending and pains- 
taking they must be to labor so hard to infuse some 
little idea of needles and schools, and editors and 
publishers into our poor befogged brain. And what 
if they had, by some strange fatuity, haunted it be- 
fore : if we did “ know a thimble by sight, darning- 
needle by personal acquaintance,” publishers and 
teaching to our sorrow ? That only proves that we 
must be one of the very smallest and most insignifi- 
cant committees of black and white, not that we are 
one wliit less commonsenseless than the finest spe- 
cimen of the graceless “ne’er do weels” ever seen; 
otherwise, we should n’t dare to sport this “ imperial 
we,” as the only perquisite and memento of our 
editorship elect, of a possible folio. 

And what but the most pure, disinterested benev- 
olence ever could make these sublimely sagacious 
matter of-facts, with all the common-sense of the 
world in their keeping, so immensely amiable and 
graciously i^atronizing to us and other worthless 
scions of a worthless stock ? hTothing on earth, that 
we can see, but o. full-grown share of author svanity.'' 
Other varieties of the class exhibit theirs in very 
difierent ways, all quite palpable enough, though, 
to be detected vfithout chemical test or microscope; 
but it’s useless to carry the investigation farther. 
The common-sense world has evidently been cheated 


176 


FAMILY PAPEBS AND 


all this while out of its legitimate rights in that 
common property^ and a Convention being the infalli- 
ble redresser of all modern grievances, we suggest 
that one he called immediately to take up the sub- 
jects of both the aforesaid monopolies, and institute 
a more equitable subdivision. 

I^ot being one of the strong-minded, we can’t pre- 
side, and it will go hard with us to see our own 
clique despoiled of its chief possessions ; but let 
justice be done though the skies fall — restitution 
must be made. 

Some hot-headed metaphysicians may infer that 
the continual, barefaced lugging in of “us” and 
“our experience” into this investigation is of itself 
an aggravated instance of authors vanity, and prima 
facie evidence that that commodity, at least, should 
be settled in perpetuity on its old basis. Cooler 
ones may deprecate their fatal facility of rushing to 
rash conclusions from insufficient premises, and fast 
members decide that it is a mere outsider’s affair, 
with little or no bearing on the general question, 
though gallant young ones will most likely vote 
that it does entitle us, individually, to double divi- 
dends. Most readers will probably agree with them ; 
we should n’t wonder, for some people do seem to 
have a “mission” to believe whatever they choose. 
For our part, we haven’t any, nothing but a star, 
but that’s the “star of the unconquered will,” as one 
Longfellow, Henry W., calls it, and we believe in 
that sort of stars — we do ; but don’t believe. Mes- 
sieurs the authors, that you have any just right to 


EX-OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


177 


monopolize tlie whole fee-simple of authorsvanity 
any longer. 

Charleston, S. C., 1859. 


TO A HIGH-BORN SLAVE OF THE “IT ISN’T 
ADMISSIBLE.” 

Good for any American Meridian. 

Bend ye so low, fair daughter of a fairy land ? 

Choose ye to serve, when easier far ye might com- 
mand ? 

’Tis yonrs to make a hetter taste and conscience 
guide : 

IJp, craven heart, and do the right, whate’er betide ! 

What is your honored name or lineage worth. 

What all your stores of gold or miles of earth. 

If yet ye dare not institute a nobler rule. 

If still ye bend and cringe like Fashion’s plebeian 
fool? 


IN MEMOKIAM 

Of J. A., Esq.^ deceased^ Frankfort, Ky., June 2^th, 1859, of a lin- 
gering disease, contracted in the wilds of Nicaragua, while escaping, 
under circumstances of almost incredible hardships, the still more in- 
tolerable despotism of William Walker. 

This is hot the place for indiscriminate praise or 
censure, were the former ever due to mortals ; hut 
if too much of that reckless waywardness and wild 
love of adventure, so common to ardent, impulsive 


178 


FAMILY PAPERS AND 


natures, marred the brief, unfinished career of the 
victim, “tread lightly on his ashes, ye men of 
genius, for he was your brother.” And dearly did 
he pay the penalty in the blight of his early promise, 
and the long months and years in which “wearisome 
days and sleepless nights alone were his;” but O, 
how inexpressibly consoling to surviving friends is 
now the assurance that he has at last met face to 
face with the sainted mother* who passed away in 
his early childhood. And who can tell how oft the 
love of that Christmn mother has been over and 
around him in the tangled chaparral, the dark and 
deadly morass, in blessing and in prayer? Who 
can tell how oft it has breathed through the hearts 
and voices of the living, winning the sinful, toil- 
worn man gently back,^to bow late, but lowly and 
humbly, at the foot of the cross, and find, in belie v- 
ing, ‘"‘that peace of Qod which passeih all understand- 
ing .?” 

In pride of his youth, from the home of his birth 
He had wandered full far, and wandered from 
God ; 

But the voice came at last — 0, never of earth 

“‘I love thee, I love thee — pass under the rod!'^ 

Thy path, by thy side, I, thy Saviour, have trod ; 
‘By my stripes ye are healed’ — and many it 
cost. 

Weary, wandering one, to bring thee to God; 

But of all that he gives me, not one have I lost.” 


* Soe note on page 1G4. 


EX-OPFICIAL DOCUMENTS. 


179 


red rod of sacrifice” marked for thy God, 

By love of a Saviour thus won to his breast, 
Beneath the bright turf that thy childhood hath 
trod. 

Life’s voyager wrecked, lay thee calmly to rest. 
Where the shade of the cross may hallow thy sleep. 
And thy loving and loved long vigils may keep. 

Charleston, July, 1859. 


^^MEEB AND DREED.” 

Many ‘^dreeds” have the base, few pseans have you, 
Earth ’s noble and gentle, its pure and its true ; 

But each deed has its “me®d,” and, spirits of love. 
Your deeds are below, their reward is above; 
Where cups of ‘‘cold water,” rightly given on earth, 
Drop dews of Elysium and diamonds of worth. 
Heart-memories live, and our God ne’er forgets 
The gems that his hand in earth’s coronet sets. 




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